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Return  this  book  on  or  before  the 
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I 'i I  Ijl  i e h f?d  bv      iipr    Rrn  tl-i p rr>  M " w  Y . r i< , 


LIBRARY 

OF  !Mt 


THE  HAWORTH  EDITION 


THE    LIFE  OF 
CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

By  MRS.  GASKELL 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  AND  NOTES 

BY 

CLEMENT  K.  SHORTER 

ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
1902 


J 


Copyright,  1900,  by  Clkmknt  K.  Shorter. 

All  riolU*  reierved.  ^ 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction  xvii 

A  Bronte  Chronology  xxxv 

CHAPTER  I 

Description  of  Keighley  and  its  Neighbourhood — Haworth  Parson- 
age and  Church— Tablets  of  the  Bronte  family  1 

CHAPTER  II 

Characteristics  of  Yorkshiremen— Manufactures  of  the  West  Rid- 
ing— Descendants  of  the  Puritans— A  characteristic  incident — 
Former  state  of  the  country— Isolated  country  houses — Two 
Yorkshire  squires — Rude  sports  of  the  people — Rev.  William 
Grimshaw,  Curate  of  Haworth — His  opinion  and  treatment  of 
his  parishioners — The  'arvill,' or  funeral  feasts— Haworth  Field- 
Kirk — Church  riots  at  Haworth  on  the  appointment  of  Mr. 
Redhead  as  Perpetual  Curate — Characteristics  of  the  popula- 
tion— Arrival  of  Mr.  Bronte  at  Haworth  11 


CHAPTER  III 

^The  lev.  Patrick  Bronte — His  marriage  with  Miss  Branwell  of 
Of  Peazance — Social  customs  in  Penzance — The  Branwell  family 
—Letters  of  Miss  Branwell  to  Mr.  Bronte — Marriage  of  Mrs. 
B'onte — Thornton,  the  birth-place  of  Charlotte  Bronte — Re- 
mcral  to  Haworth — Description  of  the  Parsonage— The  people 
of  Jaworth — The  Bronte  family  at  Haworth — Early  training 
of  '.he  little  Brontes — Characteristics  of  Mr.  Bronte — Death  of 
Mn.  Bronte — Studies  of  the  Bronte  family — Mr.  Bronte's  ac- 
coint  of  his  children  36 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


CHAPTER  IV 

PAOB 

Miss  Bran  well  comes  to  Haworth  —  Account  of  Cowan  Bridge 
School,  established  by  the  Rev.  Carus  Wilson— Originals  of 
•Miss  Scatcherd,'  'Helen  Burns/  and  'Miss  Temple '  — Out- 
break of  fever  in  the  school — Characteristics  of  the  Bronte  sis- 
ters—Deaths of  Maria  and  Elizabeth  Bronte  61 

CHAPTER  V 

The  old  servant  Tabby  —  Patrick  Bran  well  Bronte  —  Charlotte 
Bronte's  catalogue  of  her  juvenile  productions,  with  specimen 
page — Extracts  from  the  introduction  to  '  Tales  of  the  Islanders' 
— 'History  of  the  Year  1829' — Charlotte's  taste  for  art — Ex- 
tracts from  other  early  writings  in  MS. — Charlotte's  mental 
tendencies  and  home  duties — A  strange  occurrence  at  the  Par- 
sonage— A  youthful  effusion  in  verse  82 


CHAPTER  VI 

Personal  description  of  Charlotte  Bronte— Miss  W  's  school  at 

Roe  Head — Oakwell  Hall  and  its  legends— Charlotte's  first  ap- 
pearance at  school — Her  youthful  character  and  political  feel- 
ings— School  days  at  Roe  Head — Mr.  Cartwright  and  the  Lud- 
dites— Mr.  Roberson  of  Heald's  Hall — Chapel  scenes  and  other 
characteristics  of  Heckmondwike  and  Gomersall  96 


CHAPTER  VII 

Charlotte  Bronte  leaves  school,  and  returns  home  to  instruct  her 
sisters — Studies  and  books  at  the  Parsonage — Visit  from  a 
school  friend — Letters  to  a  friend  visiting  London  for  the  first 
time— On  the  choice  of  books — On  dancing — Character. and  tal- 
ents of  Bran  well  Bronte — Plans  for  his  advancement — Prospect 
of  separation  122 


CHAPTER  VIII  \ 

I 

Charlotte  as  teacher  at  Miss  W  's  school — Emily's  home-sicjt- 

ness — Letters  indicative  of  Charlotte's  despondency  and  mel- 
ancholy— The  sisters  at  home — Winter  evenings  at  Haworth-^ 
Charlotte  writes  to  Southey,  and  Bran  well  to  Wordsworth- - 
Branwell's  letter  and  verses— Prospect  of  losing  the  society  of 
friend— Charlotte's  correspondence  with  Southey — Letter  wri 


CONTENTS 


ix 


Page 

ten  in  a  state  of  despondency — Accident  to  the  old  servant,  and 
characteristic  kindness  of  the  Brontes — Symptoms  of  illness  in 
Ann  3  Bronte— Charlotte's  first  proposal  of  marriage— Charlotte 
and  Anne  go  out  as  governesses — Charlotte's  experience  of  gov- 
erness life — Advent  of  the  first  Curate  at  Haworth — A  second 
proposal  of  marriage— -A  visit  to  the  sea-side  142 


CHAPTER  IX 

Branwell  Bronte  still  at  home — Miss  Branwell  and  her  nieces — 
Plan  of  keeping  a  school— Charlotte  commences  her  first  story 
— The  Curates  at  Haworth — Charlotte's  sentiments  on  rxkdr- 
riage — She  seeks  ar.d  obtains  a  situation  as  govern <^ss   .    .  .188 

CHAPTER  X 

Second  experience  of  governess  life— ProitiCt  of  a  school  revived, 

and  plans  for  its  realisation — Miss  ^  's  offer  of  her  school 

declined— Arrangements  for  lea^'  ing  England  206 

CHAPTER  XI 

Mr.  Bronte  accompanies  his  daughters  to  Brussels— The  Pension- 
nat  of  Madame  Heg^^-^r,  and  its  inmates— M.  Heger's  account 
of  Charlotte  and  Jlimily  Bronte — Charlotte's  account  of  the 
school — Her  exercises  in  French  composition— Her  impres- 
sions of  the  Belgians — Arrangements  of  the  pensionnat — Char- 
lotte's conduct  as^  English  teacher — Loss  of  a  young  friend — 
Death  6r  Mitjs  Branwell,  and  return  to  Haworth — M.  Heger's 
letters  to  ^t.  Bronte  223 

CHAPTER  XII 

Charlotte  i^'^'irne  to  Brussels — Her  account  of  Carnival  and  Lent 
— Solit^/ness  of  the  English  teacher  in  the  pensionnat — Her 
devoir ar  Ir'  Mort  de  Napoleon  ' — Depression,  loneliness,  and 
home>  !  kness — Estrangement  from  Madame  Heger,  and  re- 
turn i,  t  Haworth — Traits  of  kindness — Emily  and  her  dog 

•K/iepe'  258 

i 

CHAPTER  XIII 

t' 

Plan  gof  scliool-keeping  revived  and  abandoned — Deplorable  con- 
d\>ict  of  Branwell  Bronte,  and  its  consequences  283 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


CHAPTER  XIV 

PAGK 

Publication  of  the  poems  of  Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton  Bell— Coire- 

spondence  with  the  publishers — Letters  to  Miss  W   find 

other  friends— Letter  of  advice  to  a  young  friend  298 

CHAPTER  XV 

Mr.  Bronte  aflSicted  with  blindness,  and  relieved  by  a  successful 
<)peration  for  cataract— Charlotte  Bronte's  first  work  of  fiction, 

*  The  Professor '  —  She  commences  '  Jane  Eyre '  —  Circum- 
stauops  attending  its  composition — Her  ideas  of  a  heroine — 
Her  attachmout  to  home— Ha  worth  in  December — A  letter  of 
confession  and  r;ounsel  316 

CHAPTER  XVI 

State  of  Charlotte  Bronte's  heaJth  at  the  commencement  of  1847— 
Family  trials—'  Wuthering  Heights '  and  *  Agnes  Grey  '  accept- 
ed by  a  publisher — 'The  Professor'  rejected — Completion  of 

*  Jane  Eyre,'  its  reception  and  publication  —  The  reviews  of 

*  Jane  Eyre,' and  the  author's  comments  on  them— Her  father's 
reception  of  the  book — Public  interest  excited  by  '  Jane  Eyre ' 
— Dedication  of  the  second  edition  to  Mr.  Thackeray — Corre- 
spondence of  Currer  Bell  with  Mr.  LewesN^n  '  Jane  Eyre ' — 
Publication  of  *  Wuthering  Heights'  and  '  A^nes  Grey ' — Miss 
Bronte's  account  of  the  authoress  of  *  Wuthering  Heights  '—Do- 
mestic anxieties  of  the  Bronte  sisters — Currer  ^Bell's  corre- 
spondence with  Mr.  Lewes — Unhealthy  state  of  IJaVorth—  , 
Charlotte  Bronte  on  the  revolutions  of  1848 — IJer  i-^pudiation 
of  authorship— Anne  Bronte's  second  tale,  '  The  Tenant  of 
Wildfell  Hall  '—Misunderstanding  as  to  the  individuality  of 
the  three  Bells,  and  its  results — Currer  and  Acfton  J  ^11  visit 
London — Charlotte  Bronte's  account  of  her  visit— The ^apter 
Coffee-House — The  Clergy  Daughters'  School  at  Cast  -^on^ — 
Death  of  Branwell  Bronte  —  Illness  and  deatl  >  of  nily 
Bronte  *  .    .  330 

CHAPTER  XVII 

i 

The  *  Quarterly  Review  *  on  *  Jane  Eyre  * — Severe  illness  o,  Ani^ie 
Bronte — Her  letter  and  last  verses — She  is  removed  t(  Scai  - 
borough — Her  last  hours,  and  death  and  burial  there— Ghai  - 
lotte's  return  to  Haworth,  and  her  loneliness  395 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

PAGE 

Commencement  and  completion  of  *  Shirley ' —  Originals  of  the 
characters,  and  circumstances  under  which  it  was  written — 
Loss  on  railway  shares— Letters  to  Mr.  Lewes  and  other  friends 
on  *  Shirley,'  and  the  reviews  of  it — Miss  Bronte  visits  London, 
meets  Mr.  Thackeray,  and  makes  the  acquaintance  of  Miss  Mar- 
tineau — Her  impressions  of  literary  men  423 


CHAPTER  XIX 

*  Currer  Bell '  identified  as  Miss  Bronte  at  Ha  worth  and  the  vi- 
cinity— Her  letter  to  Mr.  Lewes  on  his  review  of  *  Shirley  ' — Sol- 
itude, heavy  mental  sadness  and  anxiety — She  visits  Sir  J.  and 
Lady  Kay-Shuttleworth  —  Her  comments  on  critics,  and  re- 
marks on  Thackeray*s  *  Pendennis '  and  Scott's  '  Suggestions 
on  Female  Education  * — Opinions  of  *  Shirley '  by  Yorkshire 
readers  446 


CHAPTER  XX 

An  unhealthy  spring  at  Haworth — Miss  Bronte's  proposed  visit 
to  London— Her  remarks  on  *The  Leader' — Associations  of 
her  walks  on  the  moors — Letter  to  an  unknown  admirer  of  her 
works — Incidents  of  her  visit  to  London — Letter  to  her  servant 
Martha — Impressions  of  a  visit  to  Scotland — Portrait  of  Miss 
Bronte,  by  Richmond— Anxiety  about  her  father  .    .    .    .    .  463 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Visit  to  Sir  J.  and  Lady  Kay-Shuttleworth — The  biographer's  im- 
pressions of  Miss  Bronte— Miss  Bronte's  account  of  her  visit  to 
the  lakes  of  Westmoreland — Her  disinclination  for  acquaint- 
ance and  visiting — Remarks  on  'Woman's  Mission,'  Tenny- 
son's 'In  Memoriam,'  &c. — Impressions  of  her  visit  to  Scot- 
land—Remarks on  a  review  in  the  *  Palladium '  480 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Intended  republication  of  '  Wuthering  Heights'  and  *  Agnes  Grey' 
—Reaction  after  her  visit  to  Scotland — Her  first  meeting  with 
Mr.  Lewes — Her  opinion  of  Balzac  and  George  Sand — A  char- 
acteristic incident — Account  of  a  friendly  visit  to  Haworth 
Parsonage— Remarks  on  'The  Roman,'  by  Sydney  Dobell,  and 
on  the  character  of  Dr.  Arnold— Letter  to  Mr.  Dobell   .    .    .  492 


xii 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

PAGB 

Miss  Bronte's  visit  to  Miss  Martineau,  and  estimate  of  her  hostess 
— Miss  Martineau's  anecdotes  of  her  guest — Remarks  on  Miss 
Martineau's  new  worlt  and  Mr.  Ruskin's  '  Stones  of  Venice ' — 
Preparations  for  another  visit  to  London — Letter  to  Mr.  Sydney 
Dobell :  the  moors  in  autumn — Mr.  Thackeray's  second  lecture 
at  Willis's  Rooms,  and  sensation  produced  by  Currer  Bell's 
appearance  there — Her  account  of  her  visit  to  London — She 
breakfasts  with  Mr.  Rogers,  visits  the  Great  Exhibition,  and 
sees  Lord  Westminster's  pictures  —  Return  to  Haworth,  and 
letter  thence  —  Her  comment  on  Mr.  Thackeray's  lecture — 
Counsel  on  development  of  character  508 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

Remarks  on  friendship — Letter  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  on  her  and  Miss 
Martineau's  views  of  the  Great  Exhibition  and  Mr.  Thack- 
eray's lecture,  and  on  the  *  Saint's  Tragedy  ' — Miss  Bronte's 
feeling  towards  children — Her  comments  on  an  article  in  the 
*  Westminster  Review '  on  the  Emancipation  of  Women — More 
illness  at  Haworth  Parsonage — Letter  on  emigration — Periodi- 
cal returns  of  illness— Miss  Bronte's  impressions  of  her  visit  to 
London — Progress  of  'Villette'  —  Her  increasing  illness  and 
sulferings  during  winter  —  Her  letter  on  Mr.  Thackeray's 
'  Esmond ' — Revival  of  sorrows  and  accession  of  low  spirits — 
Remarks  on  some  recent  books — Retrospect  of  the  winter  of 
1851-2— Letter  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  on  '  Ruth '  545 

CHAPTER  XXV 

Miss  Bronte  revisits  Scarborough— Serious  illness  of  her  father— 
Her  own  illness—'  Villette '  nearly  completed— Further  remarks 
on  'Esmond'  and  'Uncle  Tom's  Cabin'  —  Letter  respecting 
'Villette  ' — Another  letter  about  'Villette' — More  remarks  on 
'Esmond' — Completion  of  'Villette' — Instance  of  extreme 
sensibility  586 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

The  biographer's  difficulty — Deep  and  enduring  attachment  of 
Mr.  Nicholls  for  Miss  Bronte — Instance  of  her  self-abnegation 
— She  again  visits  London — Impressions  of  this  visit — Letter 
to  Mrs.  Gaskell — Reception  of  the  critiques  on  '  Villette  '—Cor- 


CONTENTS 


xiii 


PAGB 


respondence  with  Miss  Martineau — Letter  on  Mr.  Thackeray's 
portrait— Visit  of  the  Bishop  of  Ripon  to  Haworth  Parsonage 
— Miss  Bronte's  wish  to  see  the  unfavourable  critiques  on  her 
works — Her  nervous  shyness  of  strangers,  and  its  cause— Let- 


Letters  to  Mrs.  Gaskell— The  biographer's  account  of  her  visit  to 
Haworth,  and  reminiscences  of  conversations  with  Miss  Bronte 
— Letters  from  Miss  Bronte  to  her  friends — Her  engagement  to 
Mr.  Nicholls,  and  preparations  for  the  marriage — The  marriage 
ceremony  and  wedding  tour — Her  happiness  in  the  marriage 
state — New  symptoms  of  illness,  and  their  cause — The  two 
last  letters  written  by  Mrs.  Nicholls — An  alarming  change — 
Her  death  625 


ter  on  Mr.  Thackeray's  lectures 


602 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


Mourners  at  the  funeral— Conclusion 


654 


INDEX 


657 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Portrait  of  Mrs.  Gaskell   Frontispiece 

Facsimile  of  the  Title-page  of  the 

First  Edition   p-  xxxvii 

Haworth  Old  Church  as  the  Brokte 

Family  knew  It   To  face  p.  8 

The  Parsonage  at  Haworth    ....  48 

Facsimile  Page  of  MS.  of  'The  Secret'  84 
The  Heger  'Pensionnat/  Kue  dTsa- 

belle,  Brussels  : 

Central  Avenue  of  the  Garden  .  228 

The  Forbidden  Alley   248 

Facsimile  of  a  Letter  from  Charlotte 

Bronte  to  Mrs.  Smith   „  452 

Portrait  of  the  Eev.  Patrick  Bronte  .  496 

Portrait  of  the  Kev.  A.  B.  Nicholls  .    .  „  642 

The  following  Illustrations  are  reproduced  from  photographs 
taken  hy  Mr,  W,  R.  Bland,  of  Duffield,  Derby,  in  con- 
junction with  Mr,  C,  Barrow  Keene,  of  Derby  : 

Distant  View  of  Haworth  To  face  p.  4 

Haworth  Village,  Main  Street    ...      „  30 


xvi  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

House  wheke  the  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte 
resided,  at  hightown,  when  curate 
OF  Hartshead-cum-Olifton  .    ...  To  face  p.  38 

Roe  Head   „  98 

Haworth  Moor — The  Bronte  Bridge    .       „  126 

Haworth   Moor  —  Showing  Charlotte 

Bronte's  Chair   „  336 

Haworth  Old  Hall   456 


INTRODUCTION 


By  universal  acclamation  the  biographies  of  Johnson 
by  Boswell  and  of  Scott  by  Lockhart  are  accepted  as  the 
foremost  achievements  in  English  literary  biography. 
Between  these  books  and  all  other  literary  biographies 
in  our  language  there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed.  Johnson's 
biographer  had  a  subject  peculiarly  imposing.  The 
king  of  later  eighteenth-century  literature,  the  oracle 
of  his  age,  the  friend  of  Burke  and  of  Goldsmith  must 
of  necessity  have  made  a  fascinating  topic  for  succeeding 
times.  In  his  biographer  also  he  was  fortunate.  A 
literary  expert,  a  friend  of  years,  of  boundless  zeal 
and  enthusiasm,  and  well-nigh  limitless  indiscretion, 
Boswell  alone  in  his  era  had  the  qualifications,  as  he 
had  also  the  subject-matter  for  a  perfect  biography. 
Scarcely  less  fortunate  are  we  in  the  '  Life  of  Scott.' 
The  greatest  figure  in  our  nineteenth  -  century  litera- 
ture— with  the  possible  exception  of  Byron — Sir  Walter 
Scott  was  not  only  its  most  successful  novelist  and  one 
of  its  most  popular  poets,  but  he  had  surveyed  many 
fields  of  learning  with  amazing  skill  and  industry.  He 
had  been  brought  into  contact  with  all  the  notable  men 
of  his  age.  The  biographer  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  the 
historian  of  Scotland,  the  editor  of  Swift  and  of  Dryden 
— scarcely  one  of  his  ninety  volumes  but  still  survives 


xviii  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


to  charm  and  instruct.  Lockhart,  the  biographer  and 
son-in-law  of  Scott,  had  also  every  qualification  for  the 
task  of  biographer.  His  '  Life  of  Burns '  still  remains 
the  most  readable  book  on  that  poet — at  least  to  the 
Southron.  His  novels,  his  criticisms,  his  many  forms 
of  literary  activity  had  provided  the  precise  equipment 
for  an  adequate  estimate  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  Of  Byron 
and  of  Shelley,  of  Cowper  and  of  Wordsworth  we  have 
had  many  biographies,  and  shall  probably  have  many 
more  as  new  material  concerning  one  or  other  of  these 
writers  is  brought  together  by  the  enthusiast ;  but  over 
the  biographies  of  Johnson  and  of  Scott  the  word 
^finality'  is  written  exceeding  large. 

With  equal  confidence  may  it  be  asserted  that  that 
word  '  finality '  is  applicable  to  Mrs.  Gaskell's  '  Life  of 
Charlotte  Bronte.'  There  are  those  among  the  critical 
writers  of  to-day  to  whom  the  name  of  Charlotte  Bronte 
conveys  no  magical  significance,  who  have  not  been 
thrilled,  as  Thackeray  was  thrilled  in  one  generation 
and  Mr.  Swinburne  in  another,  by  the  extraordinary 
power  and  genius  of  the  writer,  the  pathetically  dramatic 
career  of  the  woman.  With  these  it  may  provoke  a 
smile  that  any  comparison  should  be  instituted  between 
the  biography  of  Charlotte  Bronte  and  the  biographies 
of  Johnson  and  of  Scott.  Her  range  of  ideas  was  so 
much  more  limited,  her  influence  so  trivial  in  comparison, 
her  work,  in  quantity  at  least,  so  far  less  significant. 
When  this  is  admitted  the  fact  remains  that  Charlotte 
Bronte  wrote  novels  which  more  than  forty  years  after 
her  death  are  eagerly  read;  novels  which  have  now 
taken  an  indisputable  place  as  classics,  and  classics  not 
of  a  type  that  is  limited  to  a  handful  of  readers,  but 


INTRODUCTION 


xix 


which  still  sell  in  countless  thousands  and  in  edition 
after  edition. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  sorrows  ot  her  life 
Charlotte  Bronte  was  so  far  fortunate  in  death  in  that 
her  biography  was  Avritten  by  the  one  woman  among 
her  contemporaries  who  had  the  most  genuine  fitness 
for  the  task.  The  result  was  to  solidify  the  reputation 
of  both.  Mrs.  Gaskell  will  live  not  only  by  a  number 
of  interesting  novels  but  also  by  this  memoir  of  her 
friend.  Charlotte  Bronte  would  have  lived  in  any  case 
by  her  four  powerful  stories ;  but  her  fame  has  been 
made  thrice  secure  through  the  ever  popular  biography 
of  her  from  the  pen  of  Mrs.  Gaskell,  of  which  we  have 
here  a  new  edition. 

If  it  be  granted  that  Mrs.  GaskelPs  '  Life  of  Charlotte 
Bronte '  is  a  classic,  it  may  be  urged  with  pertinence 
that  the  rough  hand  of  editor  or  annotator  should  never 
be  placed  upon  a  classic  without  apology.  J ustification 
may,  however,  be  found,  it  is  hoped,  in  the  addition  of 
new  material  unknown  to  the  original  author.  If  an 
apology  is  due  it  must  be  rendered  first  of  all  to  the 
memory  of  Mrs.  Gaskell  and  afterwards  to  her  surviv- 
intr  friends  and  relatives.  The  editor  has  so  far  recoo:- 
nised  this  in  that  he  has  aimed  at  adding  no  single  note 
or  line  that  Mrs.  Gaskell,  were  she  still  alive,  would  not, 
he  believes,  have  cordially  approved.  He  would  urge 
further  that  BoswelFs  'Johnson-  was  edited  within  a 
few  years  of  its  author's  death,  with  the  result  that  no 
edition  is  now  published  that  lacks  the  notes  of  Edmund 
Malone.'    Malone  added  new  letters  and  new  facts,  and 


^  Full  recognition  has  never  been  rendered  to  Maloue's  services. 


XX 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


thereby  justified  himself.  Within  a  less  lengthy  period 
than  has  elapsed  since  the  '  Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte ' 
Avas  first  published  Boswell  was  edited — and,  as  Ma- 
caulay  thought,  too  much  edited — -by  Croker.  It  is  an 
interesting  fact,  indeed — although  it  can  have  no  analogy 
in  the  present  case — that  BoswelPs  '  Johnson '  never  sold 
in  any  considerable  numbers  until  Croker  had  taken  it  in 
hand.  The  first  editor  thought  it  matter  for  congratu- 
lation that  '  nearly  four  thousand  copies '  had  been  sold 
in  thirteen  years  from  the  date  of  original  publication. 

Mrs.  GaskelFs  book  has  not  failed  of  a  large  sale,  and, 
it  may  be  admitted,  does  very  well  as  it  stands.  A  jus- 
tification for  an  annotated  edition  is  not,  however,  diffi- 
cult. Mrs.  Gaskell,  writing  Avithin  a  year  or  two  of 
Miss  Bronte's  death,  Avas  compelled  to  reticences  many 
of  which  have  long  ceased  to  have  weight.  Documents 
were  withheld  in  many  quarters  which  have  since  been 
handed  to  the  present  writer,  and  a  number  of  Miss 
Bronte's  admirers  have  written  books  in  Avhich  they 
have  supplemented  in  one  form  or  another  Mrs.  Gas- 
kelFs narrative.  Here  is  a  list  of  the  books  to  Avhich  I 
Avish  to  acknowledge  some  indebtedness : — 

1.  Charlotte  Bronte :  a  Monograph.  By  T.  Wemyss  Reid.  Macmillan 

&  Co.,  1877. 

2.  A  Note  on  Charlotte  Bronte.    By  Algernon  Charles  Swinburne. 

Chatto  &  Windus,  1877. 

3.  Haworth,  Past  and  Pi^esent.    By  J.  Horsfall  Turner.  Brighouse 

Jowett,  1879. 


Within  a  few  pages  he  throws  light  on  Johnson's  brother,  corrects 
BoswelFs  carelessly  picturesque  remark  that  Johnson  married  a  wife 
double  his  age,  and  moderates  the  biographer's  disposition  to  toady  to 
Lady  Macclesfield. 


INTRODUCTION 


xxi 


4.  Pictures  of  the  Past.    By  Francis  H.  Grund3^    Griffith  &  Farran, 

1879. 

5.  Emily  Bronte.   By  A.  Mary  F.  Robinson.  W.  H.  Allen  &  Co. ,  1883. 

6.  The  Birtliptace  of  Charlotte  Bronte.    By  William  Scruton.  Leeds: 

Fletcher,  1884. 

7.  An  Hour  with  Charlotte  Bronte.    By  Laura  C.  Holloway.  Funk 

&  Wagnalls,  1884. 

8.  The  Bronte  Family,  icith  special  reference  to  Patrick  Branwell 

Bronte.    By  Francis  A.  Leyland.    Hurst  &  Blackett,  1880. 

9.  The  Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte.    By  Augustine  Birrell,  Q.C.,  M.P. 

Walter  Scott,  1887. 

10.  The  Bronte  Country  :  its  Topography,  Antiquities,  and  History. 

By  J.  A.  Erskine  Stuart.    Longmans,  Green,  &  Co.,  1888. 

11.  The  Literary  Shrines  of  Yorkshire.    By  J.  A.  Erskine  Stuart. 

Longmans,  Green,  &  Co.,  1892. 

12.  The  Brontes  in  Ireland.    By  William  Wright,  D.D.    Hodder  & 

Stoughton,  1893. 

13.  The  Father  of  the  Brontes.  By  W.  W.  Yates.  Leeds:  F.  R.  Spark 

&  Son,  1897. 

14.  Brontiana:  the  Bev.  Patrick  Bronte,  A.B.,  His  Collected  Works 

and  Life.  Edited,  &c.,  by  J.  Horsfall  Turner.  Bingley  : 
T.  Harrison  &  Sons,  1898. 

15.  The  Bronte  Homeland.    By  J.  Ramsden.    The  Roxburghe  Press, 

1898. 

16.  Thornton  and  the  Brontes.     By  William  Scruton.  Bradford: 

John  Dale,  1898, 

17.  Ihe  Bronte  Society  Publications.   Edited  by  Butler  Wood.  Brad- 

ford :  xM.  Field  &  Sons,  1895-99. 

To  each  of  the  above  works  I  am  indebted  for  certain 
facts  incorporated  in  the  notes,  and  I  thank  their 
authors  accordingly.  I  have  also  to  thank  Mr.  George 
Smith,  of  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.,  for  kindly  plac- 
ing at  my  disposal  a  number  of  hitherto  unpublished 
letters  by  Miss  Bronte  addressed  either  to  him  or  to  his 
fli:m.  These  new  letters  should  alone,  I  think,  give 
special  interest  to  this  new  edition.  Certain  brief  ex- 
tracts from  my  own  book'  on  the  Brontes  will  also 

^  Charlotte  Bronte  and  her  CirclCy  by  Clement  K.  Shorter  (Hodder 
&  Stoughton). 


xxii 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


serve,  I  trust,  to  fill  in  sundry  gaps  in  Mrs.  Gaskell's, 
singularly  fascinating  story. 

The  life  of  Elizabeth  Cleghorn  Gaskell,  Charlotte 
Bronte's  biographer,  has  never  been  written,  and  the 
world  is  the  poorer  by  a  pleasing  picture  of  womanliness 
and  sympathetic  charm  in  the  literary  life.  A  brief 
sketch  by  Professor  A.  W.  Ward  in  the  '  Dictionary 
of  National  Biography,'  an  occasional  article  by  an 
admirer  in  this  or  that  magazine,  and  now  and  again 
some  more  or  less  biographical  '  Introduction '  to  one  or 
other  of  her  novels— these  sources  furnish  the  few  items 
of  information  that  the  world  has  been  permitted  to 
learn  of  one  who  must  have  been  a  singularly  upright 
and  noble-minded  woman.  Elizabeth  Cleghorn  Gaskell 
was  the  daughter  of  William  Stevenson.  She  was  born  in 
Chelsea  on  September  29,  1812,  and  died  at  Holybourne, 
near  Alton,  in  Hampshire,  November  12, 1865.  In  18*32 
she  married  the  Rev.  William  Gaskell,  a  Unitarian 
minister  of  Manchester,  and  she  had  several  children. 
This,  in  as  few  words  as  possible,  is  all  that  need  be 
said  here  of  her  private  life,  apart  from  its  relation  to 
Charlotte  Bronte.  Of  her  books  the  first,  'Mary 
J>arton,'  was  published  anonymously  in  1848,  and 
'Wives  and  Daughters'  was  published  in  book  form 
after  her  death  in  1866.  In  the  interval  she  had  writ- 
ten 'Ruth'  (1853),  'Cranford'  (1853),  'North  and 
South'  (1855),  'Lizzie  Leigh '  (1855), ' Sylvia's  Lovers' 
(1863),  and  'Cousin  Phillis'  (1865).  It  is,  however, 
with  the  '  Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte,'  written  in  1856  and 
published  in  1857,  that  we  have  here  mainly  to  do. 

Much  of  the  correspondence  which  gave  rise  to  Mrs. 


INTRODUCTION 


xxiii 


GaskelPs  biography  has  already  been  published,'  and  it 
is  therefore  scarcely  necessary  to  recapitulate.  The 
letter  in  which  Mr.  Bronte  definitely  requested  Mrs. 
Gaskell  to  undertake  a  biography  of  his  daughter  has, 
however,  but  just  been  unearthed.^  It  is  an  interesting 
contribution  to  the  bibliography  of  the  subject.  Charlotte 
Bronte  had  died  on  the  3rd  of  the  previous  March : — 

TO  MRS.  GASKELL,  MANCHESTER. 

Haworth,  near  Keighley  :  June  16,  1855. 

My  dear  Madam, — Finding  that  a  great  many  scribblers, 
as  well  as  some  clever  and  truthful  writers,  have  published 
articles  in  newspapers  and  tracts  respecting  my  dear 
daughter  Charlotte  since  her  death,  and  seeing  that,  many 
things  that  have  been  stated  are  untrue,  but  more  false 
(sic)  ;  and  having  reason  to  think  that  some  may  venture 
to  write  her  life  who  will  be  ill-qualified  for  the  undertaking, 
I  can  see  no  better  plan  under  the  circumstances  than  to 
apply  to  some  established  author  to  write  a  brief  account 
of  her  life  and  to  make  some  remarks  on  her  works. 
You  seem  to  me  to  be  the  best  qualified  for  doing  what  I 
wish  should  be  done.  If,  therefore,  you  will  be  so  kind  as 
to  publish  a  long  or  short  account  of  her  life  and  works, 
just  as  you  may  deem  expedient  and  proper,  Mr.  Nicholls 
and  I  will  give  you  such  information  as  you  may  require. 

I  should  expect  and  request  that  you  would  affix  your 
name,  so  that  the  work  might  obtain  a  wide  circulation 
and  be  handed  down  to  the  latest  times.  Whatever  profits 
might  arise  from  the  sale  would,  of  course,  belong  to  you. 
You  are  the  first  to  whom  I  have  applied.  Mr.  Nicholls 
approves  of  the  step  I  have  taken,  and  could  my  daughter 

^  In  Charlotte  Bronte  and  her  Circle. 

*  The  original  is  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  George  Smith,  of  Messrs* 
Smith,  Elder,  &  Co. 


xxiv 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


speak  from  the  tomb  I  feel  certain  she  would  land  onr 
choice. 

Give  my  respectfnl  regards  to  Mr.  Gaskell  and  yonr 
family,  and 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Madam, 

Yours  very  respectfully  and  truly, 

P.  Bronte. 

Mrs.  Gaskell,  it  is  clear,  accepted  with  zest.  She  had 
admired  Charlotte  Bronte  as  a  woman  as  well  as  a 
novelist.  Miss  Bronte  had  been  encouraged  by  her 
letters  before  the  two  had  met.  Here,  for  example,  are 
extracts  from  letters  by  Charlotte  to  her  friend  Mr. 
Williams : — 

The  letter  you  forwarded  this  morning  was  from  Mrs. 
Gaskell,  authoress  of  ^  Mary  Barton  she  said  I  was  not  to 
answer  it,  but  I  cannot  help  doing  so.  The  note  brought 
the  tears  to  my  eyes.  She  is  a  good,  she  is  a  great  woman. 
Proud  am  I  that  I  can  touch  a  chord  of  sympathy  in  souls  so 
noble.  In  Mrs.  GaskelFs  nature  it  mournfully  pleases  me  to 
fancy  a  remote  affinity  to  my  sister  Emily.  In  Miss  Mar- 
tineau^s  mind  I  have  always  felt  the  same,  though  there 
are  wide  differences.  Both  these  ladies  are  above  me — 
certainly  far  my  superiors  in  attainments  and  experience. 
I  think  I  could  look  up  to  them  if  I  knew  them.^ 

The  note  you  sent  yesterday  was  from  Harriet  Martineau ; 
its  contents  were  more  than  gratifying.  I  ought  to  be 
thankful,  and  I  trust  I  am,  for  such  testimonies  of  sym- 
pathy from  the  first  order  of  minds.  When  Mrs.  Gaskell 
tells  me  she  shall  keep  my  works  as  a  treasure  for  her 
daughters,  and  when  Harriet  Martineau  testifies  affectionate 
approbation,  I  feel  the  sting  taken  from  the  strictures  of 
another  class  of  critics.  My  resolution  of  seclusion  with- 
holds me  from  communicating  further  with  these  ladies  at 


'  Letter  to  W.  S.  Williams  dated  November  20,  1849. 


INTRODUCTION 


XXV 


present,  but  I  now  know  how  tliey  are  inclined  to  me  —  I 
know  how  my  writings  have  affected  their  wise  and  pure 
minds.  The  knowledge  is  present  support  and,  perhaps, 
may  be  future  armour.^ 

Miss  Bronte  and  Mrs.  Gaskell  first  met  at  the  house 
of  a  common  friend.  Sir  James  Kay-Shuttleworth,  the 
Briery,  Windermere,  on  August  10,  1850.  The  friend- 
ship then  formed  was  cemented  by  an  exchange  of 
visits.  Miss  Bronte  visited  Mrs.  Gaskell  in  her  Man- 
chester home  first  in  1851,  and  afterwards  in  1853,  and 
in  the  autumn  of  1853  Mrs.  Gaskell  stayed  at  the  Par- 
sonage at  Haworth.  Other  aspects  of  their  friendship 
are  pleasantly  treated  of  in  the  '  Life.' 

To  trace  the  growth,  bibliographically,  of  Mrs.  Gas- 
kell's  famous  book  is  an  easy  task.  From  the  moment 
that  she  received  Mr.  Bronte's  request  the  author  of 
'  Mary  Barton  '  set  to  work  with  enthusiasm.  She  wrote 
letter  after  letter  to  every  friend  connected  with  the 
Bronte  story  —  to  Mr.  George  Smith,  the  publisher,  to 
Mr.  Smith  Williams,  that  publisher's  literary  adviser,  to 
Ellen  Nussey  and  Mary  Taylor,  Charlotte  Bronte's  old 
schoolfellows  at  Eoe  Head,  to  Margaret  Wooler,  her  old 
schoolmistress,  and  to  Laetitia  Wheelwright,  the  friend 
of  her  Brussels  life.  All  the  correspondence  has  been 
preserved,  and  copies  of  it  are  in  my  hands.  It  relates 
with  delightful  enthusiasm  the  writer's  experience  in 
biography-making.  Her  visits  to  Miss  ISTussey  and  Miss 
Wooler  secured  to  her  a  number  of  Miss  Bronte's  letters. 
She  thus  acknowledges  —  on  Sept.  6,  1856  —  those  that 
Miss  Nussey  lent  to  her : — 


»  Letter  to  W.  S.  Williams  dated  Noverrber  29,  1849. 


xxvi 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


I  have  read  once  over  all  the  letters  you  so  kindly  en- 
trusted me  with,  and  I  donH  think  even  you,  her  most 
cherished  friend,  could  wish  the  impression  on  me  to  be 
different  from  what  it  is,  that  she  was  one  to  study  the 
path  of  duty  well,  and,  having  ascertained  what  it  was 
right  to  do,  to  follow  out  her  idea  strictly.  They  gave  me 
a  very  beautiful  idea  of  her  character.  I  like  the  one  you 
sent  to-day  much.  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  any  others  you 
will  allow  me  to  see.  I  am  sure  the  more  fully  she — Char- 
lotte Bronte — the  friend,  the  daughter ,  the  sister,  the  wife, 
is  known,  and  known  where  need  be  in  her  own  words,  the 
more  highly  will  she  be  appreciated. 

There  are  many  sentences  of  this  character  in  the  cor- 
respondence. She  is  particularly  pleased  with  the  letters 
to  Mr.  W.  Smith  Williams ; '  They  are  very  fine  and  genial.' 
'  Miss  Bronte  seems  heartily  at  her  ease  with  him,'  she 
says  to  another  friend.  '  I  like  the  series  of  letters 
which  you  have  sent  better  than  any  others  that  I  have 
seen,'  she  writes  to  Mr.  Williams, '  the  subjects,  too,  are 
very  interesting.  How  beautifully  she  speaks,  for  in- 
stance, of  her  wanderings  on  the  moors  after  her  sister's 
death.' 

But  Mrs.  Gaskell's  energy  did  not  confine  itself  to 
obtaining  correspondence.  She  went  to  Ha  worth  again 
and  again,  staying  at  the  '  Black  Bull '  with,  her  hus- 
band. She  visited  the  Chapter  Coffee -House  in  Pater- 
noster Eow,  '  where  Charlotte  and  Anne  Bronte  took 
up  their  abode  on  that  first  hurried  rush  to  London.' ' 
She  went  to  Brussels  and  had  a  prolonged  conversation 
with  M.  Heger  '  and  very  much  indeed  I  both  like  and 
respect  him.'    Never  surely  was  a  more  conscientious 

» The  Chapter  Coffee-House  was  destroyed  a  few  months  after  Mrs. 
Gaskell's  visit. 


INTRODUCTION 


xxvii 


effort  to  produce  a  biography  in  which  thoroughness 
f     and  accuracy  should  have  a  part  with  good  writing  and 
sympathetic  interpretation. 

At  first,  indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  a  perfect  success 
']  crowned  Mrs.  Gaskell's  efforts.  The  book  was  published 
•  in  two  volumes,  under  the  title  of  the  '  Life  of  Charlotte 
Bronte,'  in  the  spring  of  1857.  It  went  into  a  second 
edition  immediately,  the  addition  of  a  single  foot  note 
concerning  '  Tabby '  being  the  only  variation  between 
the  two  issues.  Not  only  the  public  but  the  intimate 
relations  and  friends  appeared  to  be  satisfied.  Mr. 
Bronte  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Mr.  George  Smith, 
of  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.  :— 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ.,  CORNHILL,  LONDON. 

Ha  worth,  near  Keighley  :  March  30,  1857. 
Dear  Sir, — I  thank  you  and  Mrs.  Gaskell  for  the  bio- 
graphical books  you  have  sent  me.    I  have  read  them  with 
a  high  degree  of  melancholy  interest,  and  consider  them 
amongst  the  ablest,  most  interesting,  and  best  works  of  the 
?     kind.    Mrs.  Gaskell,  though  moving  in  what  was  to  her  a 
V     new  line — a  somewhat  critical  matter— has  done  herself 
gi'eat  credit  by  this  biographical  work,  which  I  doubt  not 
will  place  her  higher  in  literary  fame  even  than  she  stood 
before.    Notwithstanding  that  I  have  formed  my  own 
opinion,  from  which  the  critics  cannot  shake  me,  I  am  cu- 
rious to  know  what  they  may  say.    I  will  thank  you,  there- 
fore, to  send  me  two  or  three  newspapers  containing  criti- 
cisms on  the  biography,  and  I  will  remit  the  price  of  them 
to  you  in  letter  stamps. 

I  remain,  dear  Sir,  yours  respectfully  and  truly, 

P.  Bronte. 

And  to  the  author  of  the  book  he  wrote  with  even 
stronger  expressions  of  satisfaction — • 


xxviii  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


TO  MRS.  GASKELL,  MANCHESTER. 

Ha  worth,  near  Keighley :  April  2, 1857. 
My  dear  Madam, — I  thank  yon  for  the  books  you  have 
sent  me  containing  the  Memoir  of  my  daughter.  I  have 
perused  them  with  a  degree  of  pleasure  and  pain  which 
can  be  known  only  to  myself.  As  you  will  have  the  opin- 
ion of  abler  critics  than  myself  I  shall  not  say  much  in  the 
way  of  criticism.  I  shall  only  make  a  few  remarks  in  uni- 
son with  the  feelings  of  my  heart.  With  a  tenacity  of 
purpose  usual  with  me,  in  all  cases  of  importance,  I  was 
fully  determined  that  the  biography  of  my  daughter 
should,  if  possible,  be  written  by  one  not  unworthy  of  the 
undertaking.  My  mind  first  turned  to  you,  and  you  kind- 
ly acceded  to  my  wishes.  Had  you  refused  I  would  have 
applied  to  the  next  best,  and  so  on  ;  and  had  all  applica- 
tions failed,  as  the  last  resource,  though  above  eighty  years 
of  age  and  feeble,  and  unfit  for  the  task,  I  would  myself 
have  written  a  short  though  inadequate  memoir,  rather 
than  have  left  all  to  selfish,  hostile,  or  ignorant  scribblers. 
But  the  work  is  now  done,  and  done  rightly,  as  I  wished  it 
to  be,  and  in  its  completion  has  afforded  me  more  satis- 
faction than  I  have  felt  during  many  years  of  a  life  in 
which  has  been  exemplified  the  saying  that  '  man  is  born  to 
trouble,  as  the  sparks  fly  upwards.^  You  have  not  only  given 
a  picture  of  my  dear  daughter  Charlotte,  but  of  my  dear 
wife,  and  all  my  dear  children,  and  such  a  picture,  too,  as 
is  full  of  truth  and  life.  The  picture  of  my  brilliant  and 
unhappy  son  is  a  masterpiece.  Indeed,  all  the  pictures  in 
the  work  have  vigorous,  truthful,  and  delicate  touches  in 
them,  which  could  have  been  executed  only  by  a  skilful  fe- 
male hand.  There  are  a  few  trifling  mistakes,  which, 
should  it  be  deemed  necessary,  may  be  corrected  in  the 
second  edition.  Mr.  Nicholls  joins  me  in  kind  and  respect- 
ful regards  to  you,  Mr.  Gaskell,  and  your  family,  wishing 
your  greatest  good  in  both  the  words. 
I  remain,  my  dear  Madam, 

Yours  respectfully  and  truly,    P.  Brokte. 


INTRODUCTION 


xxix 


Miss  Mary  Taylor  acknowledged  the  book  from  her 
home  in  New  Zealand  as  follows : — 

TO  MES.  GASKELL,  MANCHESTER. 

Wellington  :  July  30,  1857. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Gaskell, — I  am  unaccountably  in  receipt 
by  post  of  two  volumes  containing  the  Life  of  C.  Bronte. 
I  have  pleasure  in  attributing  this  compliment  to  you ;  I 
beg,  therefore,  to  thank  you  for  them.  The  book  is  a  per- 
fect success,  in  giving  a  true  picture  of  a  melancholy  life, 
and  you  have  practically  answered  my  puzzle  as  to  how  you 
would  give  an  account  of  her,  not  being  at  liberty  to  give  a 
true  description  of  those  around.  Though  not  so  gloomy 
as  the  truth,  it  is  perhaps  as  much  so  as  people  will  accept 
without  calling  it  exaggerated,  and  feeling  the  desire  to 
doubt  and  contradict  it.  I  have  seen  two  reviews  of  it.  One 
of  them  sums  it  up  as  ^  a  life  of  poverty  and  self-suppres- 
sion,^ the  other  has  nothing  to  the  purpose  at  all.  Neither 
of  them  seems  to  think  it  a  strange  or  wrong  state  of  things 
that  a  woman  of  first-rate  talents,  industry,  and  integrity 
should  live  all  her  life  in  a  walking  nightmare  of  ^poverty 
and  self-suppression.'    I  doubt  whether  any  of  them  will. 

It  must  upset  most  people's  notions  of  beauty  to  be  told 
that  the  portrait  at  the  beginning  is  that  of  an  ugly  woman. 
I  do  not  altogether  like  the  idea  of  publishing  a  flattered 
likeness.  I  had  rather  the  mouth  and  eyes  had  been  nearer 
together,  and  shown  the  veritable  square  face  and  large, 
disproportionate  nose. 

I  had  the  impression  that  Cartwright's  mill  was  burnt  in 
1820,  not  in  1812.  You  give  much  too  favourable  an  account 
of  the  black-coated  and  Tory  savages  that  kept  the  people 
down  and  provoked  excesses  in  those  days.  Old  Koberson 
said  he  ^  would  wade  to  the  knees  in  blood  rather  than  the 
then  state  of  things  should  be  altered ' — a  state  including 
Corn  law.  Test  law,  and  a  host  of  other  oppressions. 

Once  more  I  thank  you  for  the  book — the  first  copy,  I 
believe,  that  arrived  in  New  Zealand. 

Sincerely  yours,    Mary  Taylok. 


XXX  LIFE  OP  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


'AH  the  notices  that  I  have  seen  have  been  favour- 
able,' wrote  Mrs.  Gaskell  to  a  friend  on  April  15,  1857, 
'and  some  of  the  last  exceedingly  so.  I  have  had  a  con- 
siderable number  of  letters,  too,  from  distinguished  men, 
expressing  high  approval.'  Mr.  Bronte,  too,  I  am  happy 
to  say,  is  pleased.' 

But  within  a  few  weeks  Mrs.  Gaskell  found  herself  in 
a  veritable  '  hornets'  nest ' — as  she  expressed  it.  She 
visited  Italy  the  moment  her  task  was  completed,  and 
during  April  and  May  of  the  year  1857  her  publishers 
had  to  bear  the  brunt  of  a  considerable  number  of  law- 
yers' letters.  Mr.  Carus  "Wilson  commenced  an  action 
about  the  Cowan  Bridge  School ;  Miss  Martineau  wrote 
sheet  after  sheet  regarding  the  misunderstanding  be- 

^  A  letter  from  Charles  Kingsley  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  is  published  in  his 
Life  by  Mrs.  Kingsley 

'  Let  me  renew  our  long  interrupted  acquaintance/  he  writes  from 
St.  Leonards,  under  date  May  14,  1857,  'by  complimenting  you  on 
poor  Miss  Bronte's  Life.  You  have  had  a  delicate  and  a  great  work 
to  do,  and  you  have  done  it  admirably.  Be  sure  that  the  book  will  do 
good.  It  will  shame  literary  people  into  some  stronger  belief  that  a 
simple,  virtuous,  practical  home  life  is  consistent  with  high  imagina- 
tive genius  ;  and  it  will  shame,  too,  the  prudery  of  a  not  over  cleanly 
though  carefully  white-washed  age,  into  believing  that  purity  is  now 
(as  in  all  ages  till  now)  quite  compatible  with  the  knowledge  of  evil. 
I  confess  that  the  book  has  made  me  ashamed  of  myself.  Jane  Eyre  I 
hardly  looked  into,  very  seldom  reading  a  work  of  fiction  —  yours, 
indeed,  and  Thackeray's  are  the  only  ones  I  care  to  open.  Shirley  dis- 
gusted me  at  the  opening,  and  I  gave  up  the  writer  and  her  books  with 
a  notion  that  she  was  a  person  who  liked  coarseness.  How  I  mis- 
judged her  !  and  how  thankful  I  am  that  I  never  put  a  word  of  my 
misconceptions  into  print,  or  recorded  my  misjudgments  of  one  who 
is  a  whole  heaven  above  me. 

'  Well  have  you  done  your  work,  and  given  us  the  picture  of  a 
valiant  woman  made  perfect  by  suffering.  I  shall  now  read  carefully 
and  lovingly  every  word  she  has  written,  especially  those  poems,  which 
ought  not  to  have  fallen  dead  as  they  did,  and  which  seem  to  be  (from 
a  review  in  the  current  Fraser)  of  remarkable  strength  and  purity. 


INTRODUCTION 


xxxi 


tween  her  and  Miss  Bronte.  A  Lady  Scott  (Mrs.  Kob- 
inson,  of  Thorp  Green),  whose  name  had  been  unpleas- 
antly associated  with  Branwell  Bronte  on  the  strength 
of  statements  in  his  sisters'  letters,  wrote  through  her 
lawyer  demanding  an  apology.  The  last  scandal  is  dis- 
cussed at  length  in  Miss  Mary  F.  Kobinson's  '  Emily 
Bronte,'  Mr.  Leyland's  '  Bronte  Family,'  and  in  '  Char- 
lotte Bronte  and  Her  Circle.'  It  need  not  be  further 
referred  to  here,  as  the  modification  that  its  correction 
necessitated  in  the  third  edition  of  the  '  Memoir '  in  no 
way  impaired,  but  indeed  materially  improved,  the  artis- 
tic value  of  the  book.  A  comparison  of  the  third  edition 
with  its  predecessors,  while  it  reveals  on  the  one  side 
omissions  amounting  to  a  couple  of  pages,  shows  also 
the  addition  of  new  letters  and  of  much  fresh  informa- 
tion. The  present  publishers  have  felt,  in  any  case,  that 
having  once  withdrawn  the  earlier  issues  of  the  book  as 
containing  statements  considered  to  be  libellous,  they 
could  not  be  responsible  for  a  republication  of  those  state- 
ments. This  edition  is,  therefore,  an  exact  reproduction 
of  the  third  edition,  the  only  changes  being  the  substi- 
tution of  the  name  Ellen  for  the  initial '  E.,'  and  of  '  Miss 
Wooler'  for  'Miss  W.,'  changes  which,  although  trifling, 
will,  it  is  believed,  save  the  reader  some  irritation.  In 
the  few  cases  of  necessary  verification  in  which  a  name 
has  been  added  in  the  text  it  is  placed  in  brackets.  The 
notes,  which  the  Editor  has  endeavoured  to  make  as  few 
as  possible,  are  so  printed  that  they  can  be  completely 
ignored  when  desired. 

Two  hitherto  unpublished  letters  of  Mr.  Bronte's 
fittingly  close  the  correspondence  to  which  Mrs.  Gas- 
kell's  '  Memoir '  gave  rise. 


xxxii  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ.,  65  CORKHILL,  LONDON. 

Haworth,  near  Keighley  :  Sept.  4,  1857. 
My  dear  Sir, — I  thank  yon  for  the  books  which  I  have 
just  received  ;  Mr.  Nicholls  also  sends  his  thanks  for  those 
you  have  given  to  him.  As  far  as  I  have  gone  through  the 
third  edition  of  the  '  Memoir^  I  am  much  pleased  with  it. 
I  hope  it  will  give  general  satisfaction.  Should  you  see 
any  reviews  worth  notice  be  so  kind  as  to  let  me  have 
them,  as  I  am  rather  anxious  to  know  what  the  sage  critics 
may  deem  it  expedient  in  their  wisdom  to  say.  I  hope  that 
by  this  time  Mrs.  Smith  has  fully  recovered  her  health. 
Your  anxiety  on  her  account  must  be  very  great.  Mr. 
Nicholls  joins  me  in  kind  and  respectful  regards. 

Yours  very  respectfully  and  truly, 
P.  Bronte. 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ.,  65  CORNHILL,  LONDON. 

Haworth,  near  Keighley  :  March  26, 1860. 
My  dear  Sir, — Though  writing  is  to  me  now  something 
of  a  task  I  cannot  avoid  sending  you  a  few  lines  to  thank 
you  for  sending  me  the  magazines,  and  for  your  gentle- 
manly conduct  towards  my  daughter  Charlotte  in  all  your 
transactions  with  her,  from  first  to  last.  All  the  numbers 
of  the  magazines  were  good ;  the  last  especially  attracted 
my  attention  and  excited  my  admiration.  The  ^Last 
Sketch '  took  full  possession  of  my  mind.  Mr.  Thackeray 
in  his  remarks  in  it  has  excelled  even  himself.  He  has 
written,  Mulhim  in  parvo,  dignissuna  cedro.  And  what 
he  has  written  does  honour  both  to  his  head  and  heart. 
Thank  him  kindly  both  in  Mr.  Nicholls^s  name  and  mine. 
Amongst  the  various  articles  that  have  been  written  in  ref- 
erence to  my  family  and  me  it  has  pleased  some  of  the 
writers,  for  want  of  more  important  matter,  to  set  up  an 
ideal  target  for  me  as  a  mark  to  shoot  at.  In  their  prac- 
tice a  few  have  drawn  the  long  bow  with  a  vengeance,  and 


INTRODUCTION 


xxxiii 


made  declensions  very  ridicalonsly  wide  ;  others  have  used 
the  surer  rifle  and  come  nearer  the  mark  ;  but  all  have 
proved  that  there  is  still  space  left  for  improvement^  both 
in  theory  and  practice.  Had  I  but  half  Mr.  Thackeray^s 
talents  in  giving  a  photograph  likeness  of  human  nature  I 
might  have  selected  and  might  yet  select  a  choice  number 
of  these  practising  volunteers,  and,  whether  they  liked  it 
or  not,  give  their  portraits  to  the  curious  public.  If  organ- 
less  spirits  see  as  we  see,  and  feel  as  we  feel,  in  this  ma- 
terial clogging  world,  my  daughter  Charlotte^s  spirit  will 
receive  additional  happiness  on  scanning  the  remarks  of 
her  Ancient  Favourite.  In  the  last  letter  I  received  from 
you  you  mentioned  that  Mrs.  Smith  was  in  delicate  health  ; 
I  hope  that  she  is  now  well.  I  need  scarcely  request  you 
to  excuse  all  faults  in  this  hasty  scrawl,  since  a  man  in 
his  eighty  -  fourth  year  generally  lets  his  age  plead  his 
apology. 

I  remain,  my  dear  Sir, 

Yours  very  respectfully  and  truly, 

P.  Brokte. 

^  '  I  did  so  long  to  tell  the  truth,'  writes  Mrs.  Gaskell  to 
a  friend  on  her  return  from  Eome,  '  and  I  believe  now 
that  I  hit  as  near  the  truth  as  any  one  could,  I  weighed 
every  line  with  my  whole  power  and  heart,  so  that 
every  line  should  go  to  its  great  purpose  of  making  her 
known  and  valued  as  one  who  had  gone  through  such 
a  terrible  life  with  a  brave  and  faithful  heart.  One 
comfort  is  that  God  knows  the  truth.' 

Clement  K.  Shorter. 

March  19,  1900. 

I  have  to  thank  Mr.  J.  J.  Stead,  of  Heckmondwike, 
Yorkshire,  and  Mr.  Butler  Wood,  of  the  Free  Library, 


xxxiv  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Bradford,  for  valuable  suggestions.  I  am  grateful  to  Mr. 
EoGER  Ingpen  for  giving  the  book  an  index  for  the  first 
time,  and  thereby  saving  me  from  the  anathema  which 
has  been  passed  upon  unindexed  books.  I  have,  above 
all,  to  express  my  obligations  to  the  Rev.  A.  B.  Nicholls, 
Charlotte  Bronte's  husband,  for  kind  and  generous  as- 
sistance in  this  as  in  my  previous  attempt  to  throw  new 
light  upon  his  wife's  career. 


A  BRONTE  CHRONOLOGY 


Patrick  Bronte  born  March  17,  1777 

Maria  Bronte  born  1'^^^ 

Patrick  leaves  Ireland  for  Cambridge  1^02 

Degree  of  A.B  ^^^^ 

Curacy  at  Wethersfield,  Essex  1806 

Wellington,  Salop  1809 

"      Dewsbury,  Yorks  1809 

"      Hartshead-cum-  Clifton  1811 

Publishes  '  Cottage  Poems'  (Halifax)  1811 

Married  to  Maria  Branwell  December  29,  1812 

First  Child,  Maria,  born     ,  1813 

Publishes  '  The  Rural  Minstrel '  1813 

Elizabeth  born  1814 

Publishes  the  '  Cottage  in  the  Wood '  1815 

Curacy  at  Thornton  1816 

Charlotte  Bronte  born  at  Thornton    ....    April  21,  1816 

Patrick  Branwell  Bronte  born  1817 

Emily  Jane  Bronte  born  July  30,  1818 

'  The  Maid  of  Killarney '  published  1818 

Anne  Bronte  born  January  17,  1820 

Removal  to  Incumbency  of  Haworth       .      .      .    February  1820 

Mrs.  Bronte  died  September  15,  1821 

Maria  and  Elizabeth  Bronte  at  Cowan  Bridge  .  .  .  July  1824 
Charlotte  and  Emily  .      .  September  1824 

Leave  Cowan  Bridge  1825 

Maria  Bronte  died  May  6, 1825 

Elizabeth  Bronte  died  June  15,  1825 

Charlotte  Bronte  at  School,  Roe  Head.      .       .      .     January  1831 

Leaves  Roe  Head  School  1832 

First  Visit  to  Ellen  Nussey  at  The  Rydings  .  .  September  1832 
Returns  to  Roe  Head  as  governess     ....     July  29,  1835 

Branwell  visits  London   .  1835 

Emily  spends  three  months  at  Roe  Head,  when  Anne  takes  her 

place  and  she  returns  home  1835 


xxxvi  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Miss  Wooler's  School  removed  to  Dewsbury  Moor    .      .      .  1836 
Emily  at  a  School  at  Halifax  for  six  months  (Miss  Patchett  of 

Law  Hill)  1836 

First  Proposal  of  Marriage  (Henry  Nussey)      .      .       March  1839 
Anne  Bronte  becomes  governess  at  Blake  Hall,  Mrs.  Ing- 
ham's  April  1839 

Charlotte  governess  at  Mrs.  Sidgwick's  at  Stonegappe,  and 

at  Swarcliffe,  Harrogate  1839 

Second  Proposal  of  Marriage  (Mr.  Bryce)  1839 

Charlotte  and  Emily  at  Haworth,  Anne  at  Blake  Hall      .      .  1840 
Charlotte's  second  situation  as  governess  with  Mrs.  White, 

Upperwood  House,  Rawdon     ....       March  1841 
Charlotte  and  Emily  go  to  School  at  Brussels   .      .  February  1842  I 
Miss  Branwell  died  at  Haworth  ....       October  29,  1842  I 
Charlotte  and  Emily  return  to  Haworth    .      .      .  November  1842 
Charlotte  returns  to  Brussels      .       .       .      .      .     January  1843  ! 

Returns  to  Haworth  January  1844  | 

Anne  and  Branwell  at  Thorp  Green  1845 

Charlotte  visits  Mary  Taylor  at  Hunsworth      ....  1845 

Visits  Ellen  Nussey  at  Brookroyd  1845 

Publication  of  Poems  by  Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton  Bell    .      .    1846  \ 
Charlotte  Bronte  visits  Manchester  with  her  Father  for  him  to  ' 
see  an  Oculist  August  1846 

*  Jane  Eyre '  published  (Smith,  Elder  &  Co.)    .      .      October  1847 

*  Wuthering  Heights '  and  '  Agnes  Grey  *  (Newby)    .   December  1847 

Charlotte  and  Anne  visit  London  June  1848 

'  Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall '  1848 

Branwell  died  September  24, 1848 

Emily  died  December  19,  1848 

Anne  Bronte  died  at  Scarborough     ....     May  28,  1849 

'Shirley' published  1849 

Visit  to  London,  first  meeting  with  Thackeray.  .  November  1849 
Visit  to  London,  sits  for  Portrait  to  Richmond  ....  1850 
Third  Proposal  of  Marriage  (James  Taylor)      ....  1851 

Visit  to  London  for  Exhibition  1851 

'  Villette '  published  1853 

Visit  to  London  1853 

Visit  to  Manchester  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  1853 

Marriage  June  29,  1854 

Death  March  31,  1855 

Patrick  Bronte  died  June  7,  1861 


Facsimile  of  tTie  Title-page  of  the  First  Edition 

THE  LIFE 


CHAELOTTE  BRONTE, 

AUTHOK  OP 

-JANE  EYRE,"  "SHIRLEY,"  «  VnXETTE,"  &C 


E-  C.  GASKELL, 

4UtH0B  OF  "  MABY  BARTON,*'  **  EUTH," 


♦*  Oh  xny  God, 
'  Thou  hast  knowledge,  only  Thou, 

How  dreary  tis-fbr  women  to  sit  still 
On  wmter  nights  by  solitary  Area 
Asd  hear  the  nations  praising  them  fbr  off.'* 

AVB(HU  LSZQH. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMEa 
VOL.  L 


LONDON: 

SMITH,  ELDER  &  CO.,  65,  CORNHILL. 
1857. 


lTh0  right  of  Tranolation  is  remved,} 


LIFE 


OF 

CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


CHAPTER  I 

The  Leeds  and  Skipton  railway  runs  along  a  deep  valley 
of  the  Aire ;  a  slow  and  sluggish  stream,  compared  with 
the  neighbouring  river  of  Wharfe.  Keighley  station  is  on 
this  line  of  railway,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
town  of  the  same  name.  The  number  of  inhabitants  and 
the  importance  of  Keighley  have  been  very  greatly  in- 
creased during  the  last  twenty  years,  owing  to  the  rapidly 
extended  market  for  worsted  manufactures,  a  branch  of 
industry  that  mainly  employs  the  factory  population  of 
this  part  of  Yorkshire,  which  has  Bradford  for  its  centre 
and  metropolis. 

Keighley  ^  is  in  process  of  transformation  from  a  popu- 
lous old-fashioned  village  into  a  still  more  populous  and 

^The  population  of  Keighley  was  13,378  in  1841,  21,859  in  1861, 
and  30,810  in  1.891.  Keigliley  is  now  a  borough  and  is  growing  very 
rapidly.  The  old  narrow  streets  have  disappeared  to  a  far  greater  ex- 
tent than  at  the  time  when  Mrs.  Gaskell  visited  the  town.  Keighley 
at  present  boasts  many  wide  and  handsome  thoroughfares.  There  are 
several  extensive  machine  works  and  two  public  parks.  A  large 
educational  institute  has  grown  out  of  the  old  Mechanics'  Institute, 
from  which  the  Brontes  were  accustomed  to  borrow  books.  The  sta- 
tion is  no  longer  '  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  town,'  the  inter- 
vening space  being  now  covered  with  houses. 
1 


2 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


flourishing  town.  It  is  evident  to  the  stranger  that,  as  the 
gable-ended  houses,  which  obtrude  themselves  corner-wise 
on  the  widening  streets,  fall  vacant,  they  are  pulled  down 
to  allow  of  greater  space  for  traffic  and  a  more  modern  style 
of  architecture.  The  quaint  and  narrow  shop-windows  of 
fifty  years  ago  are  giving  way  to  large  panes  and  plate-glass. 
Nearly  every  dwelling  seems  devoted  to  some  branch  of 
commerce.  In  passing  hastily  through  the  town,  one  hard- 
ly perceives  where  the  necessary  lawy^  and  doctor  can  live, 
so  little  appearance  is  there  of  any  dwellings  of  the  pro- 
fessional middle-class,  such  as  abound  in  our  old  cathedral 
towns.  In  fact,  nothing  can  be  more  opposed  than  the 
state  of  society,  the  modes  of  thinking,  the  standards  of 
reference  on  all  points  of  morality,  manners,  and  even  poli- 
tics and  religion,  in  such  a  new  manufacturing  place  as 
Keighley  in  the  north,  and  any  stately,  sleepy,  picturesque 
cathedral  town  in  the  south.  Yet  the  aspect  of  Keighley 
promises  well  for  future  stateliness,  if  not  picturesqueness. 
Grey  stone  abounds,  and  the  rows  of  houses  built  of  it  have 
a  kind  of  solid  grandeur  connected  with  their  uniform  and 
enduring  lines.  The  framework  of  the  doors  and  the  lin- 
tels of  the  windows,  even  in  the  smallest  dwellings,  are 
made  of  blocks  of  stone.  There  is  no  painted  wood  to  re- 
quire continual  beautifying,  or  else  present  a  shabby  aspect ; 
and  the  stone  is  kept  scrupulously  clean  by  the  notable 
Yorkshire  housewives.  Such  glimpses  into  the  interior  as  a 
passer-by  obtains  reveal  a  rough  abundance  of  the  means  of 
living,  and  diligent  and  active  habits  in  the  women.  But 
the  voices  of  the  people  are  hard,  and  their  tones  discordant, 
promising  little  of  the  musical  taste  that  distinguishes  the 
district,  and  which  has  already  furnished  a  Carrodus  ^  to  the 
musical  world.  The  names  over  the  shops  (of  which  the 
one  just  given  is  a  sample)  seem  strange  even  to  an  inhab- 
itant of  the  neighbouring  county,  and  have  a  peculiar 
smack  and  flavour  of  the  place. 

*Jobii  Tiplady  Carrodus  (1836-95),  a  famous  violinist,  born  at 
Braithwaite,  near  Keighley. 


KEIGHLEY  AND  HAWORTH 


3 


The  town  of  Keighley  never  quite  melts  into  country  on 
the  road  to  Haworth,  although  the  houses  become  more 
sparse  as  the  traveller  journeys  upwards  to  the  grey  round 
hills  that  seem  to  bound  his  journey  in  a  westerly  direction. 
First  come  some  villas,  just  sufficiently  retired  from  the 
road  to  show  that  they  can  scarcely  belong  to  any  one  liable 
to  be  summoned  in  a  hurry,  at  the  call  of  suffering  or  dan- 
ger, from  his  comfortable  fireside  ;  the  lawyer,  the  doctor, 
and  the  clergyman  live  at  hand,  and  hardly  in  the  suburbs, 
with  a  screen  of  shrubs  for  concealment. 

In  a  town  one  does  not  look  for  vivid  colouring  ;  what 
there  may  be  of  this  is  furnished  by  the  wares  in  the  shops, 
not  by  foliage  or  atmospheric  effects  ;  but  in  the  country 
some  brilliancy  and  vividness  seems  to  be  instinctively  ex- 
pected, and  there  is  consequently  a  slight  feeling  of  disap- 
pointment at  the  grey  natural  tint  of  every  object,  near  or 
far  off,  on  the  way  from  Keighley  to  Ha  worth.  The  distance 
is  about  four  miles  ;  and,  as  I  have  said,  what  with  villas, 
great  worsted  factories,  rows  of  workmen^s  houses,  with 
here  and  there  an  old-fashioned  farmhouse  and  outbuild- 
ings, it  can  hardly  be  called  ^  country^  any  part  of  the  way. 
For  two  miles  the  road  passes  over  tolerably  level  ground ; 
distant  hills  on  the  left,  a  '  beck'  flowing  through  meadows 
on  the  right,  and  furnishing  water  power,  at  certain  points, 
to  the  factories  built  on  its  banks.  The  air  is  dim  and 
liglitless  with  the  smoke  from  all  these  habitations  and 
places  of  business.  The  soil  in  the  valley  (or  ^bottom,'  to 
use  the  local  term)  is  rich  ;  but  as  the  road  begins  to  ascend 
the  vegetation  becomes  poorer ;  it  does  not  flourish,  it 
merely  exists  ;  and  instead  of  trees  there  are  only  bushes 
and  shrubs  about  the  dwellings.  Stone  dykes  are  every- 
where used^in  place  of  hedges  ;  and  what  crops  there  are, 
on  the  patches  of  arable  land,  consist  of  pale,  hungrjMook- 
ing,  grey -green  oats.  Right  before  the  traveller  on  this 
road  rises  Haworth  village ;  ^  he  can  see  it  for  two  miles  be- 

*  Haworth  had  a  population  of  6,303  in  1841.  It  liad  declined  to 
5,896  in  1861,  but  contained  a  population  of  8,023  in  1891. 


4  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


fore  he  arrives,  for  it  is  situated  on  the  side  of  a  pretty  steep 
hill,  with  a  background  of  dun  and  purple  moors,  rising  and 
sweeping  away  yet  higher  than  the  church,  which  is  built  at 
the  very  summit  of  the  long  narrow  street.  All  round  the 
horizon  there  is  this  same  line  of  sinuous  wave-like  hills, 
the  scoops  into  which  they  fall  only  revealing  other  hills 
beyond,  of  similar  colour  and  shape,  crowned  with  wild 
bleak  moors — grand  from  the  ideas  of  solitude  and  loneli- 
ness which  they  suggest,  or  oppressive  from  the  feeling 
which  they  give  of  being  pent  up  by  some  monotonous  and 
illimitable  barrier,  according  to  the  mood  of  mind  in  which 
the  spectator  may  be. 

For  a  short  distance  the  road  appears  to  turn  away  from 
Haworth,  as  it  winds  round  the  base  of  the  shoulder  of  a 
hill ;  but  then  it  crosses  a  bridge  over  the  ^  beck,^  and  the  . 
ascent  through  the  village  begins.    The  flagstones  with 
which  it  is  paved  are  placed  endways,  in  order  to  give  a 
better  hold  to  the  horses^  feet ;  and  even  with  this  help  they  \ 
seem  to  be  in  constant  danger  of  slipping  backwards.  The 
old  stone  houses  are  high  compared  with  the  width  of  the 
street,  which  makes  an  abrupt  turn  before  reaching  the  ' 
more  level  ground  at  the  head  of  the  village,  so  that  the 
steep  aspect  of  the  place,  in  one  part,  is  almost  like  that  of 
a  wall.    But  this  surmounted,  the  church  lies  a  little  off 
the  main  road  on  the  left ;  a  hundred  yards  or  so  and  the 
driver  relaxes  his  care,  and  the  horse  breathes  more  easily,  ^ 
as  they  pass  into  the  quiet  little  by-street  that  leads  to  Ha-  I 
worth  Parsonage.    The  churchyard  is  on  one  side  of  this  ; 
lane,  the  schoolhouse  and  the  sexton^s  dwelling  (where  the 
curates  formerly  lodged)  on  the  other.  ' 

The  parsonage  stands  at  right  angles  to  the  road,  facing 
down  upon  the  church  ;  so  that,  in  fact,  parsonage,  church, 
and  belfried  schoolhouse  form  three  sides  of  an  irregular 
oblong,  of  which  the  fourth  is  open  to  the  fields  and  moors 
that  lie  beyond.  The  area  of  this  oblong  is  filled  up  by  a 
crowded  churchyard,  and  a  small  garden  or  court  in  front 
of  the  clergyman^s  house.   As  th(i  entrance  to  this  from  the 


HAWORTH  PARSONAGE  AND  CHURCH  5 


road  is  at  the  side,  the  path  goes  round  the  corner  into  the 
little  plot  of  ground.  Underneath  the  windows  is  a  narrow 
flower-border,  carefully  tended  in  days  of  yore,  although 
only  the  most  hardy  plants  could  be  made  to  grow  there. 
Within  the  stone  wall,  which  keeps  out  the  surrounding 
churchyard,  are  bushes  of  elder  and  lilac  ;  the  rest  of  the 
ground  is  occupied  by  a  square  grass  -  plot  and  a  gravel 
walk.  The  house  is  of  grey  stone,  two  stories  high^  heav- 
ily roofed  with  flags,  in  order  to  resist  the  winds  that  might 
strip  off  a  lighter  covering.  It  appears  to  have  been  built 
about  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  to  consist  of  four  rooms  on 
each  story ;  the  two  windows  on  the  right  (as  the  visitor 
stands  with  his  back  to  the  church,  ready  to  enter  in  at  the 
front  door)  belonging  to  Mr.  Bronte^s  study,  the  two  on  the 
left  to  the  family  sitting-room.  Everything  about  the  place 
tells  of  the  most  dainty  order,  the  most  exquisite  cleanli- 
ness. The  doorsteps  are  spotless ;  the  small  old-fashioned 
window-panes  glitter  like  looking-glass.  Inside  and  outside 
of  that  house  cleanliness  goes  up  into  its  essence,  purity.* 

The  church  lies,  as  I  mentioned,  above  most  of  the 
houses  in  the  village  ;  and  the  graveyard  rises  above  the 
church,  and  is  terribly  full  of  upright  tombstones.  The 
chapel  or  church  claims  greater  antiquity  than  any  other  in 
that  part  of  the  kingdom  ;  but  there  is  no  appearance  of 
this  in  the  external  aspect  of  the  present  edifice,  unless  it 

'An  entirely  different  aspect  is  afforded  to-day.  Trees  have  been 
planted,  much  money  has  been  spent  in  careful  gardening,  and  a 
large  dining-room,  extending  from  back  to  front,  has  been  built  in  the 
side  of  the  house  nearest  the  road.  There  was  a  gateway,  now  bricked 
up,  but  tracefs\^e  at  the  end  of  the  garden,  from  which  the  churchyard 
could  be  entercYl,  but  this  gateway  was  only  opened  for  the  carrying 
out  of  the  dead.  It  was  opened  for  Mrs.  Bronte,  Miss  Branwell, 
Patrick,  Emily,  Charlotte,  and  their  father  successively. 

The  incumbency  of  Haworth,  after  Mr.  Bronte's  death  in  1861, 
passed  to  the  Rev.  John  Wade,  who  occupied  the  parsonage  until 
1898,  when  he  resigned  and  was  succeeded  by  the  Rev.  T.  W.  Storey, 
who  up  to  that  time  had  been  senior  curate  of  the  Bradford  Parish 
Churc)i. 


6 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


be  in  the  two  eastern  windows,  which  remain  unmodern- 
ised,  and  in  the  lower  part  of  the  steeple.  Inside,  the 
character  of  the  pillars  shows  that  they  were  constructed 
before  the  reign  of  Henry  VIL  It  is  probable  that  there 
existed  on  this  ground  a  '  field-kirk/  or  oratory,  in  the  ear- 
liest times;  and,  from  the  Archbishop's  registry  at  York,  it 
is  ascertained  that  there  was  a  chapel  at  Haworth  in  1317. 
The  inhabitants  refer  inquirers  concerning  the  date  to  the 
following  inscription  on  a  stone  in  the  church  tower: — 

*  Hie  fecit  Cgeaobium  Monachorum  Auteste  fundator.  A.D.  sexcen- 
tissimo. ' 

That  is  to  say,  before  the  preaching  of  Christianity  in 
Northumbria.  Whitaker  says  that  this  mistake  originated 
in  the  illiterate  copying  out,  by  some  modern  stonecutter, 
of  an  inscription  in  the  character  of  Henry  VIII.'s  time  on 
an  adjoining  stone  : — 

*  Orate  pro  bono  statu  Eutest  Tod.' 

*  Now  every  antiquary  knows  that  tlie  formula  of  prayer  *'bono 
statu  "  always  refers  to  the  living.  I  suspect  this  singular  Christian 
name  has  been  mistaken  by  the  stone-cutter  for  Austet,  a  contraction 
of  Eustatius,  but  the  word  Tod,  which  has  been  mis  -  read  for  the 
Arabic  figures  600,  is  perfectly  fair  and  legible.  On  the  presumption 
of  this  foolish  claim  to  antiquity,  the  people  wouid  needs  set  up  for 
independence,  and  contest  the  right  of  the  Vicar  of  Bradford  to  nomi- 
nate a  curate  at  Haworth.' 

I  have  given  this  extract  in  order  to  explain  the  imagi- 
nary groundwork  of  a  commotion  which  toojc  place  in 
Haworth  about  five-and-thirty  years  ago,  to  which  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  allude  again  more  particularly,- 

The  interior  of  the  church  is  commonplace ; '  'it  is  neither 

ir 

'  The  church  as  the  Brontes  knew  it  dated  only  frot^  1755,  when  it 
was  built  by  the  Rev.  William  Grimshaw,  who  also  built  a  now  de- 
molished Wesleyan  chapel  at  Haworth.  In  1879  a  certain  Michael 
Merrell  offered  five  thousand  pounds  towards  the  rebuilding  of  the 
church,  it  having  been  urged  that  the  accommodation  was  insufficient 
for  the  would-be  w()rshipi)ers.  The  offer  was  too  tempting  for  the 
then  incumbent,  Mr.  Wade,  to  resist.    Bronte  enthusiasts  were  volu- 


TABLETS  OF  THE  BRONTE  FAMILY  7 


old  enongh  nor  modern  enough  to  compel  notice.  The 
pews  are  of  black  oak,  with  high  divisions  ;  and  the  names 
of  those  to  whom  they  belong  are  painted  in  white  letters 
on.  the  doors.  There  are  neither  brasses,  nor  altar-tombs, 
nor  monuments,  but  there  is  a  mural  tablet  ^  on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  Communion  table,  bearing  the  following 
inscription  : — 

HERE 

LIE  THE  REMAINS  OF 

MARIA  BRONTE,  WIFE 

OF  THE 

REV.  P.  BRONTE,  A.B.,  MINISTER  OF  HA  WORTH. 
HER  SOUL 

DEPARTED  TO  THE  SAVIOUR,  SEPT.  15TH,  1821, 
IN  THE  39TH  YEAR  OF  HER  AGE. 

*  Be  ye  also  ready:  for  in  such  an  hour  as  ye  think  not  the  Son  of 
Man  Cometh/ — Matthew  xxiv.  44. 


ble,  but  they  did  not  answer  the  incumbent's  challenge  that  they 
should  first  raise  money  and  then  make  a  counter-proposal.  Articles 
and  letters  of  protest  appeared  in  the  London  Standard  (throughout 
April  1879)  and  in  the  Leeds  Jnercury  (April  3,  April  30,  June  20,  1879); 
and  a  public  meeting  was  held  at  Hawortli,  at  which  a  resolution 
condemning  the  proposed  destruction  of  the  church  was  carried  by  a 
large  majority.  The  advocates  of  demolition  triumphed,  however. 
The  Consistory  Court  for  the  Diocese  of  Ripon,  with  which  the  ulti- 
mate decision  lay,  decided  for  rebuilding,  and  what  might  have  been 
to-day  a  pathetic  memorial  of  a  remarkable  family  was  doomed  to  de- 
struction. It  would  have  been  easy  to  find  a  fresh  site  for  a  new 
church,  and  to  retain  the  old  one,  as  has  been  done  at  Shaftesbury 
and  in  many  other  English  towns,  but  the  church  in  which  Mr.  Bronte 
preached  and  his  daughters  worshipped  for  so  many  years  has  been 
entirely  destroyed.  Tiie  tower  —  the  only  genuinely  old  portion  of 
the  structure — was  preserved.  The  closing  services  at  Haworth  Old 
Church  took  place  on  September  14,  1879,  and  the  new  church  was 
consecrated  on  February  22,  1881. 

^  The  mural  tablet  here  referred  to  was  probably  broken  up  at  the 
time  of  the  destruction  of  the  old  church.  Sundry  pew  doors,  lamp 
brackets,  and  other  mementos  of  the  old  church,  after  having  been 
long  in  the  possession  of  a  dealer,  were  disposed  of  by  auction  at 
Sotheby's  sale  rooms  in  London  on  July  2,  1898. 


8 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


ALSO  HERE  LIE  THE  KEMAINS  OF 

MARIA  BRONTE,  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  AFORESAID; 

SHE  DIED  ON  THE 
6TH  OF  MAY,  1825,  IN  THE  12TH  YEAR  OF  HER  AGE  ; 
AND  OF 

ELIZABETH  BRONTE,  HER  SISTER, 

WHO  DIED  JUNE  15TH,  1825,  IN  THE  IITH  YEAR  OF  HER  AGE. 

*  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  Except  ye  be  converted,  and  become  as  lit- 
tle children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.— Mat- 
thew xviii.  3. 

HERE  ALSO  LIE  THE  REMAINS  OF 

PATRICK  BRANWELL  BRONTE, 

WHO  DIED  SEPT.  24TH,  1848,  AGED  30  YEARS  ; 
AND  OF 

EMILY  JANE  BRONTE, 

WHO  DIED  DEC.  19TH,  1848,  AGED  29  YEARS, 
SON  AND  DAUGHTER  OF  THE 
REV.  P.  BRONTE,  INCUMBENT. 
THIS  STONE  IS  ALSO  DEDICATED  TO  THE 

MEMORY  OF  ANNE  BRONTE,  ^ 

YOUNGEST  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  REV.  P.  BRONTE,  A.B. 

SHE  DIED,  AGED  27  YEARS,  MAY  28TH,  1849, 
AND  WAS  BURIED  AT'  THE  OLD  CHURCH,  SCARBORO'. 

*  A  reviewer  pointed  out  the  discrepancy  between  the  age  (twenty- 
seven  years)  assigned,  on  the  mural  tablet,  to  Anne  Bronte  at  the  time 
of  her  death  in  1849,  and  the  alleged  fact  that  she  was  born  at  Thornton, 
from  which  place  Mr.  Bronte  removed  on  February  25,  1820.  I  was 
aware  of  the  discrepancy,  but  I  did  not  think  it  of  sufficient  conse- 
quence to  be  rectified  by  an  examination  of  the  register  of  births.  Mr. 
Bronte's  own  words,  on  which  I  grounded  my  statement  as  to  the  time 
of  Anne  Bronte's  birth,  are  as  follows  : — 

*  In  Thornton  Charlotte,  Patrick  Branwell,  Emily  Jane,  and  Anne 
were  born.'  And  such  of  the  inhabitants  of  Haworth  as  have  spoken 
on  the  subject  say  that  all  the  children  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bronte  were 
born  before  they  removed  to  Haworth.  There  is  probably  some  mis- 
take in  the  inscription  on  the  tablet. — J!iote  by  Mrs.  Gaskell. 


LIBRARY  ' 
OF  I  HE 
UNlVtKSn  y  ut  ILLINOi;> 


TABLETS  OF  THE  BRONTE  FAMILY  <J 


At  the  upper  part  of  this  tablet  ample  space  is  allowed 
between  the  lines  of  the  inscription ;  when  the  first  me- 
morials were  written  down,  the  survivors,  in  their  fond  af- 
fection, thought  little  of  the  margin  and  verge  they  were 
leaving  for  those  who  were  still  living.  But  as  one  dead 
member  of  the  household  follows  another  fast  to  the  grave 
the  lines  are  pressed  together,  and  the  letters  become  small 
and  cramped.  After  the  record  of  Anne's  death  there  is 
room  for  no  other. 

But  one  more  of  that  generation — the  last  of  that  nursery 
of  six  little  motherless  children — was  yet  to  follow,  before 
the  survivor,  the  childless  and  widowed  father,  found  his 
rest.  On  another  tablet,  below  the  first,  the  following  rec- 
ord has  been  added  to  that  mournful  list : — 

ADJOINING  LIE  THE  REMAINS  OP 

CHARLOTTE,  WIFE 

OP  THE 

REV.  ARTHUR  BELL  NICHOLLS,  A.B., 
AND  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  REV.  P.  BRONTE,  A.B.,  INCUMBENT. 
SHE  DIED  MARCH  31ST,  1855,  IN  THE  39TH 
YEAR  OF  HER  AGE.^ 


*  In  the  month  of  April  1858  a  neat  mural  tablet  was  erected  within 
the  Communion  railing  of  the  Churcli  at  Haworth,  to  the  memory  of 
the  deceased  members  of  the  Bronte  family.  The  tablet  is  of  white 
Carrara  marble  on  a  ground  of  dove-coloured  marble,  with  a  cornice 
surmounted  by  an  ornamental  pediment  of  chaste  design.  Between 
the  brackets  which  support  the  tablet  is  inscribed  the  sacred  mono- 
gram I.H.S  in  Old  English  letters. 

This  tablet,  which  corrects  the  error  in  the  former  tablet  as  to  the 
age  of  Anne  Bronte,  bears  the  following  inscription  in  Roman  letters, 
the  initials,  however,  being  in  Old  English  : — 

'In  Memory  of 

*  Maria,  wife  of  the  Rev.  P.  BrontS,  A.B.,  Minister  of  Haworth. 

She  died  Sept.  IStli,  1821,  in  the  39th  year  of  her  age. 
'Also  of  Maria,  their  daughter,  who  died  May  6th,  1825,  in  the  12th 
year  of  her  age. 


10 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


*  Also  of  Elizabeth,  their  daughter,  who  died  June  15th,  1825,  in  the 

11th  3^ear  of  her  age. 

*  Also  of  Patrick  Bran  well,  their  son,  who  died  Sept.  24th,  1848,  aged 

31  years. 

*  Also  of  Emily  Jane,  their  daughter,  who  died  Dec.  19th,  1848,  aged 

30  years. 

'  Also  of  Anne,  their  daughter,  who  died  May  28th,  1849,  aged  29 
years.    She  was  buried  at  the  Old  Church,  Scarborough. 

*  Also  of  Charlotte,  their  daughter,  wife  of  the  Rev.  A.  B.  Nicholls, 

B.A.    She  died  March  31st,  1855,  in  the  39th  year  of  her  age. 

*  "  The  sting  of  death  is  sin  ;  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law.  But 

tlianks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ."—  i  Cor.  xv.  56,  hi.*— Note  by  Mrs.  Gaskell. 
None  of  the  birthdays  are  given,  it  will  be  seen,  on  either  tablet. 
There  was  no  register  of  births  at  the  time,  only  of  christenings,  and 
hence  exact  dates  are  not  obtainable  in  the  case  of  Mrs.  Bronte  and 
her  son. 

Maria  Bronte,  the  mother  of  Charlotte  Bronte,  was  born  at  Pen- 
zance, 1782. 

Maria  Bronte,  the  sister  of  Charlotte,  was  born  at  Hartshead,  April 
16,  1813. 

Elizabeth  Bronte,  the  second  sister  of  Charlotte,  was  born  at  Harts- 
head,  July  27,  1814. 

Charlotte  Bronte  was  born  at  Thornton,  April  21,  1816. 

Patrick  Bran  well  Bronte  was  born  at  Thornton.  He  was  baptised 
July  23,  1817. 

Emily  Jane  Bronte  was  born  at  Thornton,  July  30,  1818. 

Anne  Bronte  was  born  at  Thornton,  January  17,  1820. 

The  tablet  to  which  Mrs.  Gaskell  refers  as  having  been  erected  in 
1858  contains  the  additional  inscription,  which  was,  of  course,  added 
after  the  Life  was  written — 

*  Also  of  the  aforenamed  Revd.  P.  Bronte,  A.B.,  who  died  June  7, 
1861,  in  the  85th  year  of  his  age  ;  having  been  incumbent  of  Haworth 
for  upward  of  41  years.' 

There  is  also  a  brass  tablet  over  the  Bronte  grave  in  the  church  with 
the  following  inscription:  — 

*  In  memory  of  Emily  Jane  Bronte,  who  died  December  19,  1848, 
aged  thirty  years  ;  and  of  Charlotte  Bronte,  born  April  21,  1816,  and 
died  March  31,  1855.* 


CHAPTER  II 


For  a  right  understanding  of  the  life  of  my  dear  friend, 
Charlotte  Bronte,  it  appears  to  me  more  necessary  in  her 
case  than  in  most  others  that  the  reader  should  be  made 
acquainted  with  the  peculiar  forms  of  population  and  so- 
ciety amidst  which  her  earliest  years  were  passed,  and  from 
which  both  her  own  and  her  sister's  first  impressions  of 
human  life  must  have  been  received.  I  shall  endeavour, 
therefore,  before  proceeding  further  with  my  work,  to  pre- 
sent some  idea  of  the  character  of  the  people  of  Haworth 
and  the  surrounding  districts. 

Even  an  inhabitant  of  the  neighbouring  county  of  Lan- 
caster is  struck  by  the  peculiar  force  of  character  which 
the  Yorkshiremen  display.^  This  makes  them  interesting 
as  a  race  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  as  individuals  the  re- 
markable degree  of  self-sufficiency  they  possess  gives  them 
an  air  of  independence  rather  apt  to  repel  a  stranger.  I 
use  this  expression  ^self-sufficiency'  in  the  largest  sense. 
Conscious  of  the  strong  sagacity  and  the  dogged  power  of 
will  which  seem  almost  the  birthright  of  the  natives  of  the 
West  Riding,  each  man  relies  upon  himself,  and  seeks  no 
help  at  the  hands  of  his  neighbour.  From  rarely  requiring 
the  assistance  of  others,  he  comes  to  doubt  the  power  of 
bestowing  it;  from  the  general  success  of  his  efforts,  he 
grows  to  depend  upon  them,  and  to  over-esteem  his  own 

^  *  Some  of  the  West  Ridingers  are  very  angry,'  Miss  Nussey  wrote 
to  Mrs.  Gaskell  a  few  months  after  the  first  edition  of  the  '  Memoir* 
was  published,  '  and  declare  they  are  half  a  century  in  civilisation 
before  some  of  the  Lancashire  folk,  and  that  this  neighbourhood  is  a 
paradise  compared  with  some  districts  not  far  from  Manchester.* 


12 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


energy  and  power.  He  belongs  to  that  keen  yet  short- 
sighted class  who  consider  suspicion  of  all  whose  honesty 
is  not  proved  as  a  sign  of  wisdom.  The  practical  qualities 
of  a  man  are  held  in  great  respect ;  but  the  want  of  faith 
in  strangers  and  untried  modes  of  action  extends  itself 
even  to  the  manner  in  which  the  virtues  are  regarded:  and 
if  they  produce  no  immediate  and  tangible  result,  they  are 
rather  put  aside  as  unfit  for  this  busy,  striving  world,  es- 
pecially if  they  are  more  of  a  passive  than  an  active  char- 
acter. The  affections  are  strong  and  their  foundations  lie 
deep  :  but  they  are  not — such  affections  seldom  are — wide- 
spreading  ;  nor  do  they  show  themselves  on  the  surface. 
Indeed,  there  is  little  display  of  any  of  the  amenities  of  life 
among  this  wild  rough  population.  Their  accost  is  curt, 
their  accent  and  tone  of  speech  blunt  and  harsh.  Some- 
thing of  this  may,  probably,  be  attributed  to  the  freedom 
of  mountain  air  and  isolated  hillside  life  ;  something  be  de- 
rived from  their  rough  Norse  ancestry.  They  have  a  quick 
perception  of  character,  and  a  keen  sense  of  humour;  the 
dwellers  among  them  must  be  prepared  for  certain  uncom- 
plimentary, though  most  likely  true,  observations,  pithily 
expressed.  Their  feelings  are  not  easily  roused,  but  their 
duration  is  lasting.  Hence  there  is  much  close  friendship 
and  faithful  service  ;  and  for  a  correct  exemplification  of 
the  form  in  which  the  latter  frequently  appears,  I  need 
only  refer  the  reader  of  ^Wuthering  Heights^  to  the 
character  of  '  Joseph.^ 

From  the  same  cause  come  also  enduring  grudges,  in 
some  cases  amounting  to  hatred,  which  occasionally  has 
been  bequeathed  from  generation  to  generation.  I  remem- 
ber Miss  Bronte  once  telling  me  that  it  was  a  saying  round 
about  Haworth,  ^Keep  a  stone  in  thy  pocket  seven  year  ; 
turn  it,  and  keep  it  seven  year  longer,  that  it  may  be  ever 
ready  to  thine  hand  when  thine  enemy  draws  near.^ 

The  West  Riding  men  are  sleuth-hounds  in  pursuit  of 
money.    Miss  Bronte  related  to  my  husband*  a  curious 

1  William  Gaskell  (1805-1884).    Mr.  Gaskell  was  a  Unitarian  min- 


MEN  OF  THE  WEST  RIDING 


13 


instance  illustrative  of  this  eager  desire  for  riches.  A  man 
that  she  knew,  who  was  a  small  manufacturer,  had  engaged 
in  many  local  speculations  which  had  always  turned  out 
well,  and  thereby  rendered  him  a  person  of  some  wealth. 
He  was  rather  past  middle  age,  when  he  bethought  him  of 
insuring  his  life;  and  he  had  only  just  taken  out  his  pol- 
icy when  he  fell  ill  of  an  acute  disease  which  was  certain 
to  end  fatally  in  a  very  few  days.  The  doctor,  half  hesitat- 
ingly, revealed  to  him  his  hopeless  state.  '  By  jingo !' 
cried  he,  rousing  up  at  once  into  the  old  energy,  ^  I 
shall  do  the  insurance  company !  I  always  was  a  lucky 
fellow  V 

These  men  are  keen  and  shrewd ;  faithful  and  persever- 
ing in  following  out  a  good  purpose,  fell  in  tracking  an 
evil  one.  They  are  not  emotional :  they  are  not  easily 
made  into  either  friends  or  enemies;  but  once  lovers  or 
haters,  it  is  difficult  to  change  their  feeling.  They  are  a 
powerful  race  both  in  mind  and  body,  both  for  good  and 
for  evil. 

The  woollen  manufacture  was  introduced  into  this  dis- 
trict in  the  days  of  Edward  III.  It  is  traditionally  said 
that  a  colony  of  Flemings  came  over  and  settled  in  the 
West  Riding  to  teach  the  inhabitants  what  to  do  with  their 
wool.  The  mixture  of  agricultural  with  manufacturing 
labour  that  ensued  and  prevailed  in  the  AV^est  Riding  up  to 

ister.  He  was  the  son  of  a  manufacturer,  and  was  born  at  Latchford, 
near  Warrington.  He  studied  at  Glasgow,  where  he  graduated  M.A. 
in  1824.  After  a  period  as  divinity  student  at  Manchester  College, 
York,  he  became  minister  of  Cross  Street  Chapel,  Manchester,  in 
1828,  and  this  position  he  occupied  until  his  retirement.  He  was  pro- 
fessor of  English  history  and  literature  at  Manchester  New  College 
from  1846  to  1853,  and  he  held  many  other  appointments  from  time  to 
time.  Although  perhaps  best  known  to  the  world  as  the  husband  of 
the  novelist,  he  himself  wrote  a  considerable  number  of  hymns,  ser- 
mons, and  controversial  pamphlets.  He  died  at  his  residence,  Plym- 
outh Grove,  Manchester,  June  11,  1884,  and  was  buried  beside  his 
wife  (who  had  died  in  1865)  at  Knutsford.  (The  Rev.  Alexander  Gor- 
don, in  the  Dictionary  of  National  Biography .) 


14 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


a  very  recent  period,  sounds  pleasant  enough  at  this  dis- 
tance of  time,  when  the  classical  impression  is  left,  and 
the  details  forgotten,  or  only  brought  to  light  by  those  who 
explore  the  few  remote  parts  of  England  where  the  custom 
still  lingers.  The  idea  of  the  mistress  and  her  maidens 
spinning  at  the  great  wheels  while  the  master  was  abroad 
ploughing  his  fields,  or  seeing  after  his  flocks  on  the  pur- 
ple moors,  is  very  poetical  to  look  back  upon ;  but  when 
such  life  actually  touches  on  our  own  days,  and  we  can 
hear  particulars  from  the  lips  of  those  now  living,  there 
come  out  details  of  coarseness — of  the  uncouthness  of  the 
rustic  mingled  with  the  sharpness  of  the  tradesman — of  ir- 
regularity and  fierce  lawlessness — that  rather  mar  the  vision 
of  pastoral  innocence  and  simplicity.  Still,  as  it  is  the 
exceptional  and  exaggerated  characteristics  of  any  period 
that  leave  the  most  vivid  memory  behind  them,  it  would 
be  wrong,  and  in  my  opinion  faithless,  to  conclude  that 
such  and  such  forms  of  society  and  modes  of  living 
were  not  best  for  the  period  when  they  prevailed,  altliough 
the  abuses  they  may  have  led  into,  and  the  gradual  prog- 
ress of  the  world,  have  made  it  well  that  such  ways  and 
manners  should  pass  away  for  ever,  and  as  preposterous  to 
attempt  to  return  to  them  as  it  would  be  for  a  man  to  re- 
turn to  the  clothes  of  his  childhood. 

The  patent  granted  to  Alderman  Cockayne,  and  the  fur- 
ther restrictions  imposed  by  James  I.  on  the  export  of  un- 
dyed  woollen  cloths  (met  by  a  prohibition  on  the  part  of 
the  States  of  Holland  of  the  import  of  English-dyed  cloths), 
injured  the  trade  of  the  West  Riding  manufacturers  con- 
siderably. Their  independence  of  character,  their  dislike 
of  authority,  and  their  strong  powers  of  thought  predis- 
posed them  to  rebellion  against  the  religious  dictation  of 
such  men  as  Laud  and  the  arbitrary  rule  of  the  Stuarts ; 
and  the  injury  done  by  James  and  Charles  to  the  trade  by 
which  they  gained  their  bread  made  the  great  majority  of 
them  Commonwealth  men.  I  shall  have  occasion  after- 
wards to  give  one  or  two  instances  of  the  warm  feelings 


DESCENDANTS  OF  THE  PURITANS 


15 


and  extensive  knowledge  on  subjects  of  both  home  and  for- 
eign politics  existing  at  the  present  day  in  the  villages  ly- 
ing west  and  east  of  the  mountainous  ridge  that  separates 
Yorkshire  and  Lancaster,  the  inhabitants  of  which  are  of 
the  same  race  and  possess  the  same  quality  of  character. 

The  descendants  of  many  who  served  under  Cromwell  at 
Dunbar  live  on  the  same  lands  as  their  ancestors  occupied 
then  ;  and  perhaps  there  is  no  part  of  England  where  the 
traditional  and  fond  recollections  of  the  Commonwealth 
have  lingered  so  long  as  in  that  inhabited  by  the  woollen 
manufacturing  population  of  the  West  Riding,  who  had 
the  restrictions  taken  off  their  trade  by  the  Protector's 
admirable  commercial  policy.  I  have  it  on  good  authority 
that,  not  thirty  years  ago,  the  phrase  '  in  Oliver's  days ' 
was  in  common  use  to  denote  a  time  of  unusual  prosperity. 
The  class  of  Christian  names  prevalent  in  a  district  is  one 
indication  of  the  direction  in  which  its  tide  of  hero-worship 
sets.  Grave  enthusiasts  in  politics  or  religion  perceive  not 
the  ludicrous  side  of  those  which  they  give  to  their  chil- 
dren ;  and  some  are  to  be  found,  still  in  their  infancy,  not 
a  dozen  miles  from  Haworth,  that  will  have  to  go  through 
life  as  Lamartine,  Kossuth,  and  Dembinsky.  And  so  there 
is  a  testimony  to  what  I  have  said,  of  the  traditional  feel- 
ing of  the  district,  and  in  fact  that  the  Old  Testament 
names  in  general  use  among  the  Puritans  are  yet  the  prev- 
alent appellations  in  most  Yorkshire  families  of  middle  or 
humble  rank,  whatever  their  religious  persuasion  may  be. 
There  are  numerous  records,  too,  that  show  the  kindly 
way  in  which  the  ejected  ministers  were  received  by  the 
gentry,  as  well  as  by  the  poorer  part  of  the  inhabitants, 
during  the  persecuting  days  of  Charles  II.  These  little 
facts  all  testify  to  the  old  hereditary  spirit  of  indepen- 
dence, ready  ever  to  resist  authority  which  was  conceived 
to  be  unjustly  exercised,  that  distinguishes  the  people  of 
the  West  Riding  to  the  present  day. 

The  parish  of  Halifax  touches  that  of  Bradford,  in  which 
the  chapelry  of  Haworth  is  included ;  and  the  nature  of  the 


16 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BROJSTE 


ground  in  the  two  parishes  is  much  of  the  same  wild  and 
hilly  description.  The  abundance  of  coal,  and  the  num- 
ber of  mountain  streams  in  the  district,  make  it  highly 
favourable  to  manufactures;  and  accordingly,  as  I  stated, 
the  inhabitants  have  for  centuries  been  engaged  in  making 
cloth,  as  well  as  in  agricultural  pursuits.  But  the  inter- 
course of  trade  failed,  for  a  long  time,  to  bring  amenity 
and  civilisation  into  these  outlying  hamlets,  or  widely 
scattered  dwellings.  Mr.  Hunter,  in  his  '  Life  of  Oliver 
Hey  wood, quotes  a  sentence  out  of  a  memorial  of  one 
James  Either,  living  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  which  is 
partially  true  to  this  day  : — 

They  have  no  superior  to  court,  no  civilities  to  practise  : 
a  sour  and  sturdy  humour  is  the  consequence,  so  that  a 
stranger  is  shocked  by  a  tone  of  defiance  in  every  voice, 
and  an  air  of  fierceness  in  every  countenance.' 

Even  now  a  stranger  can  hardly  ask  a  question  without 
receiving  some  crusty  reply,  if,  indeed,  he  receives  any  at 
all.  Sometimes  the  sour  rudeness  amounts  to  positive  in- 
sult. Yet  if  the  *  foreigner^  takes  all  this  churlishness 
good-humouredly,  or  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  makes  good 
any  claim  upon  their  latent  kindliness  and  hospitality,  they 
are  faithful  and  generous,  and  thoroughly  to  be  relied  upon. 
As  a  slight  illustration  of  the  roughness  that  pervades  all 
classes  in  these  out-of-the-way  villages,  I  may  relate  a 
little  adventure  which  happened  to  my  husband  and  my- 
self, three  years  ago,  at  Addingham — 

^  Oliver  Heywood  (1630-1702),  Nonconformist  divine,  third  son  of 
Richard  Heywood,  yeoman,  by  his  first  wife,  Alice  Critchlaw,  was 
born  at  Little  Lever,  near  Bolton,  Lancashire.  His  parents  were  Pur- 
itans. He  was  educated  at  Bolton  Grammar  School  and  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge.  In  1650  he  became  preacher  at  Coley  Chapel, 
in  the  village  of  Northowram,  in  the  parish  of  Halifax,  West  Riding, 
at  a  salary  of  30^.  a  year.  Oliver  Heywood  was  a  Royalist  Presby- 
terian. The  London  Agreement  of  1691  between  the  Presbyterians 
and  Congregationalists,  known  as  the  *  Happy  Union/  was  introduced 
mainly  through  his  influence. 


DESCENDANTS  OF  THE  PURITANS  17 


*  From  Penigent  to  Pendle  Hill, 
From  Linton  to  hong- Addingham 
And  all  that  Craven  coasts  did  till/  &c. — 

one  of  the  places  that  sent  forth  its  fighting  men  to  the 
famous  old  battle  of  Flodden  Fields  and  a  village  not  many- 
miles  from  Haworth. 

We  were  driving  along  the  street,  when  one  of  those 
ne^er-do-weel  lads  who  seem  to  have  a  kind  of  magnetic 
power  for  misfortunes,  having  jumped  into  the  stream  that 
runs  through  the  place,  just  where  all  the  broken  glass  and 
bottles  are  thrown,  staggered  naked  and  nearly  covered 
with  blood  into  a  cottage  before  us.  Besides  receiving  an- 
other bad  cut  in  the  arm,  he  had  completely  laid  open  the 
artery,  and  was  in  a  fair  way  of  bleeding  to  death — which, 
one  of  his  relations  comforted  him  by  saying,  would  be 
likely  to  ^save  a  deal  o^  trouble/ 

When  my  husband  had  checked  the  effusion  of  blood  with 
a  strap  that  one  of  the  bystanders  unbuckled  from  his  leg, 
he  asked  if  a  surgeon  had  been  sent  for. 

^  Yoi,^  was  the  answer  ;  ^  but  we  dinna  think  he'll  come.^ 

•  Why  not  T 

^He's  owd,  yo  seen,  and  asthmatic,  and  it's  up-hill.' 

My  husband,  taking  a  boy  for  his  guide,  drove  as  fast  as 
he  could  to  the  surgeon's  house,  which  was  about  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  off,  and  met  the  aunt  of  the  wounded  lad 
leaving  it. 

^Is  he  coming  ?'  inquired  my  husband. 

^  Well,  he  didna'  say  he  wouldna'  come.' 

'  But  tell  him  the  lad  may  bleed  to  death/ 

a  did.' 

^And  what  did  he  say  ?' 

'  Why,  only    D  n  him  ;  what  do  I  care  ?" ' 

It  ended,  however,  in  his  sending  one  of  his  sons,  who, 
though  not  brought  up  to  ^the  surgering  trade,'  was  able  to 
do  what  was  necessary  in  the  way  of  bandages  and  plasters. 
The  excuse  made  for  the  surgeon  was  that  '  he  was  near 
3 


18  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


eighty^  and  getting  a  bit  doited,  and  had  had  a  matter  o' 
twenty  childer/ 

Among  the  most  unmoved  of  the  lookers-on  was  the 
brother  of  the  boy  so  badly  hurt ;  and  while  he  was  lying 
in  a  pool  of  blood  on  the  flag  floor,  and  crying  out  how 
much  his  arm  was  ^warching/  his  stoical  relation  stood 
coolly  smoking  his  bit  of  black  pipe,  and  uttered  not  a 
single  word  of  either  sympathy  or  sorrow. 

Forest  customs,  existing  in  the  fringes  of  dark  wood  which 
clothed  the  declivity  of  the  hills  on  either  side,  tended  to 
brutalise  the  population  until  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  Execution  by  beheading  was  performed  in  a  sum- 
mary way  upon  either  men  or  women  who  were  guilty  of 
but  very  slight  crimes  ;  and  a  dogged,  yet  in  some  cases 
fine,  indifference  to  human  life  was  thus  generated.  The 
roads  were  so  notoriously  bad,  even  up  to  the  last  thirty 
years,  that  there  was  little  communication  between  one  vil- 
lage and  another  ;  if  the  produce  of  industry  could  be  con- 
veyed at  stated  times  to  the  cloth  market  of  the  district, 
it  was  all  that  could  be  done ;  and,  in  lonely  houses  on  the 
distant  hillside,  or  by  the  small  magnates  of  secluded  ham- 
lets, crimes  might  be  committed  almost  unknown,  certainly 
without  any  great  uprising  of  popular  indignation  calcu- 
lated to  bring  down  the  strong  arm  of  the  law.  It  must 
be  remembered  that  in  those  days  there  was  no  rural  con- 
stabulary ;  and  the  few  magistrates  left  to  themselves,  and 
generally  related  to  one  another,  were  most  of  them  in- 
clined to  tolerate  eccentricity,  and  to  wink  at  faults  too 
much  like  their  own. 

Men  hardly  past  middle  life  talk  of  the  days  of  their 
youth,  spent  in  this  part  of  the  country,  when,  during  the 
winter  months,  they  rode  up  to  the  saddle  girths  in  mud  ; 
when  absolute  business  was  the  only  reason  for  stirring  be- 
yond the  precincts  of  home  ;  and  when  that  business  was 
conducted  under  a  pressure  of  difficulties  which  they  them- 
selves, borne  along  to  Bradford  market  in  a  swift  first-class 
carriage,  can  hardly  believe  to  have  been  possible.    For  in- 


STATE  OF  THE  ROADS  IN  YORKSHIRE  19 


stance,  one  woollen  manufacturer  says  that,  not  five-and- 
twenty  years  ago,  he  had  to  rise  betimes  to  set  ofE  on  a 
winter^s  morning  in  order  to  be  at  Bradford  with  the  great 
wagon-load  of  goods  manufactured  by  his  father  ;  this  load 
was  packed  over-night,  but  in  the  morning  there  was  a  great 
gathering  around  it,  and  Jflashing  of  lanterns,  and  examina- 
tion of  horses^  feet,  before  the  ponderous  wagon  got  under 
way  ;  and  then  some  one  had  to  go  groping  here  and  there, 
on  hands  and  knees,  and  always  sounding  with  a  staff  down 
the  long,  steep,  slippery  brow,  to  find  where  the  horses 
might  tread  safely,  until  they  reached  the  comparative 
easy-going  of  the  deep-rutted  main  road.  People  went  on 
horseback  over  the  upland  moors,  following  the  tracks  of 
the  pack-horses  that  carried  the  parcels,  baggage,  or  goods 
from  one  town  to  another  between  which  there  did  not  hap- 
pen to  be  a  highway. 

But  in  winter  all  such  communication  was  impossible, 
by  reason  of  the  snow  which  lay  long  and  late  on  the  bleak 
high  ground.  I  have  known  people  who,  travelling  by  the 
mail  coach  over  Blackstone  Edge,  had  been  snowed  up  for 
a  week  or  ten  days  at  the  little  inn  near  the  summit,  and 
obliged  to  sppnd  both  Christmas  and  New  Yearns  Day  there, 
till,  the  store  of  provisions  laid  in  for  the  use  of  the  land- 
lord and  his  family  falling  short  before  the  inroads  of  the 
unexpected  visitors,  they  had  recourse  to  the  turkeys, 
geese,  and  Yorkshire  pies  with  which  the  coach  was  laden  ; 
and  even  these  were  beginning  to  fail,  when  a  fortunate 
thaw  released  them  from  their  prison. 

Isolated  as  the  hill  villages  may  be,  they  are  in  the  world, 
compared  with  the  loneliness  of  the  grey  ancestral  houses 
to  be  seen  here  and  there  in  the  dense  hollows  of  the  moors. 
These  dwellings  are  not  large,  yet  they  are  solid  and  roomy 
enough  for  the  accommodation  of  those  who  live  in  them, 
and  to  whom  the  surrounding  estates  belong.  The  land  has 
often  been  held  by  one  family  since  the  days  of  the  Tudors ; 
the  owners  are,  in  fact,  the  remnants  of  the  old  yeomanry 
— small  squires — who  are  rapidly  becoming  extinct  as  a 


20 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


class^  from  one  of  two  causes.  Either  the  possessor  falls 
into  idle,  drinking  habits,  and  so  is  obliged  eventually  to 
sell  his  property:  or  he  finds,  if  more  shrewd  and  advent- 
urous, that  the  ^beck^  running  down  the  mountain-side, 
or  the  minerals  beneath  his  feet,  can  be  turned  into  a  new 
source  of  wealth;  and  leaving  the  old  plodding  life  of  a 
landowner  with  small  capital,  he  turns  manufacturer,  or 
digs  for  coal,  or  quarries  for  stone. 

Still  there  are  those  remaining  of  this  class — dwellers  in 
the  lonely  houses  far  away  in  the  upland  districts — even  at 
the  present  day,  who  sufficiently  indicate  what  strange  ec- 
centricity— what  wild  strength  of  will — nay,  even  what  un- 
natural power  of  crime  was  fostered  by  a  mode  of  living  in 
which  a  man  seldom  met  his  fellows  and  where  public  opin- 
ion was  only  a  distant  and  inarticulate  echo  of  some  clearer 
voice  sounding  behind  the  sweeping  horizon. 

A  solitary  life  cherishes  mere  fancies  until  they  become 
manias.  And  the  powerful  Yorkshire  character,  which  was 
scarcely  tamed  into  subjection  by  all  the  contact  it  met 
with  in  ^  busy  town  or  crowded  mart,^  has  before  now 
broken  out  into  strange  wilfulness  in  the  remoter  districts. 
A  singular  account  was  recently  given  me  of  a  landowner 
(living,  it  is  true,  on  the  Lancashire  side  of  the  hills,  but 
of  the  same  blood  and  nature  as  the  dwellers  on  the  other) 
who  was  supposed  to  be  in  receipt  of  seven  or  eight  hun- 
dred a  year,  and  whose  house  bore  marks  of  handsome  an- 
tiquity, as  if  his  forefathers  had  been  for  a  long  time  peo- 
ple of  consideration.  My  informant  was  struck  with  the 
appearance  of  the  place,  and  proposed  to  the  countryman 
who  was  accompanying  him  to  go  up  to  it  and  take  a  nearer 
inspection.  The  reply  was,  ^  Yo'd  better  not ;  he'd 
threap  yo^  down  th'  loan.  He's  let  fly  at  some  folks^  legs, 
and  let  shot  lodge  in  ^em  afore  now,  for  going  too  near  to 
his  house.'  And  finding,  on  closer  inquiry,  that  such  was 
really  the  inhospitable  custom  of  this  moorland  squire,  the 
gentleman  gave  up  his  purpose.  I  believe  that  the  savage 
yeoman  is  still  living. 


CHARACTERS  OF  YORKSHIRE  SQUIRES  21 


Another  squire,  of  more  distinguished  family  and  larger 
property — one  is  thence  led  to  imagine  of  better  education, 
but  that  does  not  always  follow — died  at  his  house,  not  many 
miles  from  Haworth,  only  a  few  years  ago.  His  great 
amusement  and  occupation  had  been  cock-fighting.  When 
he  was  confined  to  his  chamber  with  what  he  knew  would 
be  his  last  illness,  he  had  his  cocks  brought  up  there,  and 
watched  the  bloody  battle  from  his  bed.  As  his  mortal 
disease  increased^  and  it  became  impossible  for  him  to  turn 
so  as  to  follow  the  combat,  he  had  looking-glasses  arranged 
in  such  a  manner,  around  and  above  him,  as  he  lay,  that  he 
could  still  see  the  cocks  fighting.  And  in  this  manner  he 
died. 

These  are  merely  instances  of  eccentricity  compared  with 
the  tales  of  positive  violence  and  crime  that  have  occurred 
in  these  isolated  dwellings,  which  still  linger  in  the  memo- 
ries of  the  old  people  of  the  district,  and  some  of  which 
were  doubtless  familiar  to  the  authors  of  '  Wuthering 
Heights'  and  ^The  Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall.' 

The  amusements  of  the  lower  classes  could  hardly  be 
expected  to  be  more  humane  than  those  of  the  wealthy  and 
better  educated.  The  gentleman  who  has  kindly  furnished 
me  with  some  of  the  particulars  I  have  given  remembers 
the  bull-baitings  at  Rochdale,  not  thirty  years  ago.  The 
bull  w^as  fastened  by  a  chain  or  rope  to  a  post  in  the  river. 
To  increase  the  amount  of  water,  as  well  as  to  give  their 
workpeople  the  opportunity  of  savage  delight,  the  masters 
were  accustomed  to  stop  their  mills  on  the  day  when  the 
sport  took  place.  The  bull  would  sometimes  wheel  sud- 
denly round,  so  that  the  rope  by  which  he  was  fastened 
swept  those  who  had  been  careless  enough  to  come  within 
its  range  down  into  the  water,  and  the  good  people  of 
Rochdale  had  the  excitement  of  seeing  one  or  two  of  their 
neighbours  drowned,  as  well  as  of  witnessing  the  bull  bait- 
ed, and  the  dogs  torn  and  tossed. 

The  people  of  Haworth  were  not  less  strong  and  full  of 
character  than  their  neighbours  on  either  side  of  the  hills. 


22 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


The  village  lies  embedded  in  the  moors,  between  the  two 
counties,  on  the  old  road  between  Keighley  and  Colne. 
About  the  middle  of  the  last  century  it  became  famous  in 
the  religious  world  as  the  scene  of  the  ministrations  of  the 
Eev.  William  Grimshaw/  curate  of  Haworth  for  twenty 
years.  Before  this  time  it  is  probable  that  the  curates 
were  of  the  same  order  as  one  Mr.  Nicholls,  a  Yorkshire 
clergyman,  in  the  days  immediately  succeeding  the  Refor- 
mation, who  was  ^  much  addicted  to  drinking  and  company- 
keeping/  and  used  to  say  to  his  companions,  ^  You  must 
not  heed  me  but  when  I  am  got  three  feet  above  the  earth,' 
that  was,  into  the  pulpit. 

Mr.  Grimshaw's  life  was  written  by  Newton,^  Cowper's 
friend  ;  and  from  it  may  be  gathered  some  curious  particu- 
lars of  the  manner  in  which  a  rough  population  were 
swayed  and  governed  by  a  man  of  deep  convictions  and 
strong  earnestness  of  purpose.  It  seems  that  he  had  not 
been  in  any  way  remarkable  for  religious  zeal,  though  he 
had  led  a  moral  life,  and  been  conscientious  in  fulfilling 
his  parochial  duties,  until  a  certain  Sunday  in  September 
1744,  when  the  servant,  rising  at  five,  found  her  master  al- 
ready engaged  in  prayer.  She  stated  that,  after  remaining 
in  his  chamber  for  some  time,  he  went  to  engage  in  re- 

^  William  Grimsliaw  (1708-1763)  was  born  at  Brindle,  Lancashire. 
He  was  educated  at  the  grammar  schools  of  Blackburn  and  Hesketh, 
and  at  Christ's  College,  Cambridge.  Grimsbaw  became  curate  of 
Rochdale  in  1731  and  removed  to  Todmorden  the  same  year.  He  was 
appointed  to  the  perpetual  curacy  of  Haworth  in  1742,  and  there  he 
encouraged  the  Methodist  revival  to  such  an  extent  that  the  Wesleys 
and  Whitefield  occupied  his  pulpit.  He  spent  many  years  in  ener- 
getic work,  associating,  to  the  scandal  of  some  of  his  clerical  brethren, 
with  every  phase  of  Nonconformist  effort,  and  he  assisted  to  build  a 
Methodist  chapel  at  Haworth.  He  died  at  Haworth  and  was  buried 
in  Luddenden  Church  in  the  neighbourhood.  His  published  works 
consisted  of  four  religious  pamphlets.  (The  Rev.  Canon  Overton,  in 
the  Dictionary  of  National  Biography.) 

^  John  Newton  (1735-1807).  After  being  engaged  for  some  years  in 
the  African  slave  trade  he  became  in  1764  curate  of  Olney,  and  in  1779 
rector  of  St.  Mary  Woolnoth,  Loudon. 


MR.  GRIMSHAW  OF  HAWORTH 


23 


ligious  exercises  in  the  house  of  a  parishioner,  then  home, 
again  to  pray ;  thence,  still  fasting,  to  the  church,  where, 
as  he  was  reading  the  second  lesson,  he  fell  down,  and, 
on  his  partial  recovery,  had  to  be  led  from  the  church. 
As  he  went  out  he  spoke  to  the  congregation,  and  told 
them  not  to  disperse,  as  he  had  something  to  say  to  them, 
and  would  return  presently.  He  was  taken  to  the  clerk's 
house,  and  again  became  insensible.  His  servant  rubbed 
him,  to  restore  the  circulation ;  and  when  he  was  brought 
to  himself  ^  he  seemed  in  a  great  rapture,^  and  the  first 
words  he  uttered  were,  ^  I  have  had  a  glorious  vision 
from  the  third  heaven.^  He  did  not  say  what  he  had 
seen,  but  returned  into  the  church,  and  began  the  ser- 
vice again,  at  two  in  the  afternoon,  and  went  on  until 
seven. 

From  this  time  he  devoted  himself,  with  the  fervour  of  a 
Wesley,  and  something  of  the  fanaticism  of  a  Whitefield, 
to  calling  out  a  religious  life  among  his  parishioners.  They 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  playing  at  football  on  Sunday,  us- 
ing stones  for  this  purpose  ;  and  giving  and  receiving  chal- 
lenges from  other  parishes.  There  were  horse  races  held 
on  the  moors  just  above  the  village,  which  were  periodical 
sources  of  drunkenness  and  profligacy.  Scarcely  a  wed- 
ding took  place  without  the  rough  amusement  of  foot 
races,  where  the  half-naked  runners  were  a  scandal  to  all 
decent  strangers.  The  old  custom  of  ^arvills,^  or  funeral 
feasts,  led  to  frequent  pitched  battles  between  the  drunken 
mourners.  Such  customs  were  the  outward  signs  of  the 
kind  of  people  with  whom  Mr.  Grimshaw  had  to  deal. 
But,  by  various  means,  some  of  the  most  practical  kind, 
he  wrought  a  great  change  in  his  parish.  In  his  preaching 
he  was  occasionally  assisted  by  Wesley  and  Whitefield,  and 
at  such  times  the  little  church  proved  much  too  small  to 
hold  the  throng  that  poured  in  from  distant  villages  or 
lonely  moorland  hamlets  ;  and  frequently  they  were  obliged 
to  meet  in  the  open  air  :  indeed,  there  was  not  room  enough 
in  the  church  even  for  the  communicants.    Mr.  White- 


24  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


field  ^  was  once  preaching  in  Haworth,  and  made  nse  of 
some  such  expression  as  that  he  hoped  there  was  no  need 
to  say  much  to  this  congregation,  as  they  had  sat  under  so 
pious  and  godly  a  minister  for  so  many  years  ;  ^  whereupon 
Mr.  Grimshaw  stood  up  in  his  place,  and  said  with  a  loud 
voice,  ^^Oh,  sir!  for  God's  sake  do  not  speak  so.  I  pray 
you  do  not  flatter  them.  I  fear  the  greater  part  of  them 
are  going  to  hell  with  their  eyes  open.'^^  But  if  they  were 
so  bound  it  was  not  for  want  of  exertion  on  Mr.  Grimshaw's 
part  to  prevent  them.  He  used  to  preach  twenty  or  thirty 
times  a  week  in  private  houses.  If  he  perceived  any  one 
inattentive  to  his  prayers,  he  would  stof)  and  rebuke  the 
offender,  and  not  go  on  till  he  saw  every  one  on  their 
knees.  He  was  very  earnest  in  enforcing  the  strict  ob- 
servance of  Sunday,  and  would  not  even  allow  his  parish- 
ioners to  walk  in  the  fields  between  services.  He  some- 
times gave  out  a  very  long  psalm  (tradition  says  the  119th), 
and  while  it  was  being  sung  he  left  the  reading-desk,  and 
taking  a  horsewhip  went  into  the  public-houses,  and  flog- 
ged the  loiterers  into  church.  They  were  swift  who  could 
escape  the  lash  of  the  parson  by  sneaking  out  the  back 
way.  He  had  strong  health  and  an  active  body,  and  rode 
far  and  wide  over  the  hills,  ^awakening'  those  who  had 
previously  had  no  sense  of  religion.  To  save  time,  and  be 
no  charge  to  the  families  at  whose  houses  he  held  his 
prayer-meetings,  he  carried  his  provisions  with  him ;  all 
the  food  he  took  in  the  day  on  such  occasions  consisting 
simply  of  a  piece  of  bread-and-butter,  or  dry  bread  and  a 
rav/  onion. 

The  horse  races  were  justly  objectionable  to  Mr.  Grim- 
shaw ;  they  attracted  numbers  of  profligate  people  to  Ha- 

*  George  Whitefield  (1714-1770).  Born  at  Gloucester  ;  he  became  a 
servitor  at  Pembroke  College,  Oxford.  Took  deacon's  orders  in  1736, 
and  preached  in  Gloucester  Cathedral.  Joined  Wesley  in  Georgia  in 
1738,  and  became  associated  with  him  in  revivalist  work.  Separated 
from  Wesley  on  the  question  of  predestination  in  1741.  He  died  near 
Boston,  Massachusetts,  when  on  a  preaching  tour  in  America. 


^ARVILLS'  AT  HA  WORTH 


25 


worthy  and  brought  a  match  to  the  combustible  materials 
of  the  place,  only  too  ready  to  blaze  out  into  wickedness. 
The  story  is  that  he  tried  all  means  of  persuasion,  and  even 
intimidation,  to  have  the  races  discontinued,  but  in  vain. 
At  length,  in  despair,  he  prayed  with  such  fervour  of 
earnestness  that  the  rain  came  down  in  torrents,  and  del- 
uged the  ground,  so  that  there  was  no  footing  for  man  or 
beast,  even  if  the  multitude  had  been  willing  to  stand  such 
a  flood  let  down  from  above.  And  so  Haworth  races  were 
stopped,  and  have  never  been  resumed  to  this  day.  Even 
now  the  memory  of  this  good  man  is  held  in  reverence,  and 
his  faithful  ministrations  and  real  virtues  are  one  of  the 
boasts  of  the  parish. 

But  after  his  time  I  fear  there  was  a  falling  back  into 
the  wild,  rough,  heathen  ways,  from  which  he  had  pulled 
them  up,  as  it  were,  by  the  passionate  force  of  his  individ- 
ual character.  He  had  built  a  chapel  for  the  Wesleyan 
Methodists,  and  not  very  long  after  the  Baptists  established 
themselves  in  a  place  of  worship.  Indeed,  as  Dr.  Whitaker 
says,  the  people  of  this  district  are  ^strong  religionists;' 
only,  fifty  years  ago  their  religion  did  not  work  down  into 
their  lives.  Half  that  length  of  time  back  the  code  of 
morals  seemed  to  be  formed  upon  that  of  their  Norse  ances- 
tors. ^  Revenge  was  handed  down  from  father  to  son  as  an 
hereditary  duty;  and  a  great  capability  for  drinking  with- 
out the  head  being  affected  was  considered  as  one  of  the 
manly  virtues.  The  games  of  football  on  Sundays,  with  the 
challenges  to  the  neighbouring  parishes,  were  resumed, 
bringing  in  an  influx  of  riotous  strangers  to  fill  the  pub- 
lic-houses, and  make  the  more  sober-minded  inhabitants 
long  for  good  Mr.  Grimshaw^s  stout  arm  and  ready  horse- 
whip. The  old  custom  of  ^  arvills^  was  as  prevalent  as  ever. 
The  sexton,  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  open  grave,  an- 

^This  suggestion  of  Norse  ancestry  has  been  called  in  question  by 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Haworth  district.  They  claim  to  be  purely  of 
Saxon  origin,  the  Danish  and  Norwegian  settlers  never  having  come 
as  far  east  as  Haworth. 


26 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


nounced  that  the  ^arviir  would  be  held  at  the  'Black  Bull/ 
or  whatever  public-house  might  be  fixed  upon  by  the  friends 
of  the  dead  ;  and  thither  the  mourners  and  their  acquaint- 
ances repaired.  The  origin  of  the  custom  had  been  the 
necessity  of  furnishing  some  refreshment  for  those  who 
came  from  a  distance  to  pay  the  last  mark  of  respect  to  a 
friend.  In  the  'Life  of  Oliver  Hey  wood  ^  there  are  two 
quotations  which  show  what  sort  of  food  was  provided  for 
'arvills^  in  quiet  Nonconformist  connections  in  the  seven- 
teenth century ;  the  first  (from  Thoresby)  tells  of  '  cold 
possets,  stewed  prunes,  cake,  and  cheese  '  as  being  the  arvill 
after  Oliver  Hey wood^s  funeral.  The  second  gives,  as  rather 
shabby,  according  to  the  notion  of  the  times  (1673),  '  noth- 
ing but  a  bit  of  cake,  a  draught  of  wine,  a  piece  of  rose- 
mary, and  a  pair  of  gloves.' 

But  the  arvills  at  Haworth  were  often  far  more  jovial 
doings.  Among  the  poor  the  mourners  were  only  expected 
to  provide  a  kind  of  spiced  roll  for  each  person  ;  and  the 
expense  of  the  liquors — rum,  or  ale,  or  a  mixture  of  both 
called  'dog's  nose' — was  generally  defrayed  by  each  guest 
placing  some  money  on  a  plate,  set  in  the  middle  of  the 
table.  Richer  people  would  order  a  dinner  for  their  friends. 
At  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Charnock  (the  next  successor  but  one 
to  Mr.  Grimshaw  in  the  incumbency)  above  eighty  people 
were  bid  to  the  arvill,  and  the  price  of  the  feast  was  4ts.  6d, 
per  head,  all  of  which  was  defrayed  by  the  friends  of  the 
deceased.  As  few  '  shirked  their  liquor,'  there  were  very 
frequently  'up-and-down  fights'  before  the  close  of  the 
day ;  sometimes  with  the  horrid  additions  of  '  pawsing,' 
and  '  gouging,'  and  biting. 

Although  I  have  dwelt  on  the  exceptional  traits  in  the 
characteristics  of  these  stalwart  West  Ridingers,  such  as 
they  were  in  the  first  quarter  of  this  century,  if  not  a  few 
years  later,  I  have  little  doubt  that  in  the  everyday  life  of 
the  people  so  independent,  wilful,  and  full  of  grim  humour, 
there  would  be  much  found  even  at  present  that  would  shock 
those  accustomed  only  to  the  lociil  manners  of  the  south ; 


PRESENTATION  TO  THE  LIVING  OF  HAWORTH  27 


and,  in  return,  I  suspect  the  shrewd,  sagacious,  energetic 
Yorkshireman  would  hold  such  ^foreigners'  in  no  small 
contempt. 

I  have  said  it  is  most  probable  that  where  Haworth 
Church  now  stands  there  was  once  an  ancient  ^  field  kirk,' 
or  oratory.  It  occupied  the  third  or  lowest  class  of  ecclesi- 
astical structures,  according  to  the  Saxon  law,  and  had  no 
right  of  sepulture,  or  administration  of  sacraments.  It  was 
so  called  because  it  was  built  without  enclosure,  and  open 
to  the  adjoining  fields  or  moors.  The  founder,  according 
to  the  laws  of  Edgar,  was  bound,  without  subtracting  from 
his  tithes,  to  maintain  the  ministering  priest  out  of  the  re- 
maining nine  parts  of  his  income.  After  the  Reformation 
the  right  of  choosing  their  clergyman,  at  any  of  those 
chapels  of  ease  which  had  formerly  been  field  kirks,  was 
vested  in  the  freeholders  and  trustees,  subject  to  the  ap- 
proval of  the  vicar  of  the  parish.  But,  owing  to  some  neg- 
ligence, this  right  has  been  lost  to  the  freeholders  and  trus- 
tees at  Haworth  ever  since  the  days  of  Archbishop  Sharp  ; 
and  the  power  of  choosing  a  minister  has  lapsed  into  the 
hands  of  the  Vicar  of  Bradford.  So  runs  the  account,  ac- 
cording to  one  authorityo 

Mr.  Bronte  says,  ^  This  living  has  for  its  patrons  the 
Vicar  of  Bradford  and  certain  trustees.  My  predecessor 
took  the  living  with  the  consent  of  the  Vicar  of  Bradford, 
but  in  opposition  to  the  trustees ;  in  consequence  of  which 
he  was  so  opposed  that,  after  only  three  weeks'  possession, 
he  was  compelled  to  resign.'  A  Yorkshire  gentleman,  who 
has  kindly  sent  me  some  additional  information  on  this 
subject  since  the  second  edition  of  my  work  was  published, 
writes  thus : — 

^The  sole  right  of  presentation  to  the  incumbency  of 
Haworth  is  vested  in  the  Vicar  of  Bradford.  He  only  can 
present.  The  funds,  however,  from  which  the  clergyman's 
stipend  mainly  proceeds  are  vested  in  the  hands  of  trus- 
tees, who  have  the  power  to  withhold  them,  if  a  nominee 
is  sent  of  whom  they  disapprove.    On 'the  decease  of  Mr. 


28  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Charnock,  the  Vicar  first  tendered  the  preferment  to  Mr. 
Bronte,  and  he  went  over  to  his  expected  cure.  He  was 
told  that  towards  himself  they  had  no  personal  objection, 
but  as  a  nominee  of  the  Vicar  he  would  not  be  received. 
He  therefore  retired,  with  the  declaration  that  if  he  could 
not  come  with  the  approval  of  the  parish,  his  ministry 
could  not  be  useful.  Upon  this  the  attempt  was  made  to 
introduce  Mr.  Redhead. 

^  When  Mr.  Redhead  was  repelled  a  fresh  difficulty  arose. 
Some  one  must  first  move  towards  a  settlement,  but  a 
spirit  being  evoked  which  could  not  be  allayed,  action  be- 
came perplexing.  The  matter  had  to  be  referred  to  some 
independent  arbitrator,  and  my  father  was  the  gentleman 
to  whom  each  party  turned  its  eye.  A  meeting  was  con- 
vened, and  the  business  settled  by  the  Vicar^s  conceding 
the  choice  to  the  trustees,  and  the  acceptance  of  the 
Vicar's  presentation.  That  choice  forthwith  fell  on  Mr. 
Bronte,  whose  promptness  and  prudence  had  won  their 
hearts.^ 

In  conversing  on  the  character  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
West  Riding  with  Dr.  Scoresby,  who  had  been  for  some  time 
Vicar  of  Bradford,  he  alluded  to  certain  riotous  transac- 
tions which  had  taken  place  at  Haworth  on  the  presenta- 
tion of  the  living  to  Mr.  Redhead,  and  said  that  there  had 
been  so  much  in  the  particulars  indicative  of  the  character 
of  the  people,  that  he  advised  me  to  inquire  into  them.  I 
have  accordingly  done  so,  and,  from  the  lips  of  some  of 
the  survivors  among  the  actors  and  spectators,  I  have 
learnt  the  means  taken  to  eject  the  nominee  of  the  Vicar. 

The  previous  incumbent  had  been  the  Mr.  Charnock 
whom  I  mentioned  as  next  but  one  in  succession  to  Mr. 
Grimshaw.  He  had  a  long  illness  which  rendered  him  un- 
able to  discharge  his  duties  without  assistance,  and  Mr. 
Redhead  gave  him  occasional  help,  to  the  great  satisfaction 
of  the  parishioners,  and  was  highly  respected  by  them  during 
Mr.  Charnock's  lifetime.  But  the  case  was  entirely  altered 
when,  at  Mr.  Oharnock's  death  in  1819,  they  conceived  that 


CHURCH  RIOTS  AT  HA  WORTH 


29 


the  trustees  had  been  unjustly  deprived  of  their  rights  by 
the  Vicar  of  Bradford,  who  appointed  Mr.  Redhead  as  per- 
petual curate. 

The  first  Sunday  he  officiated  Haworth  Church  was 
filled  even  to  the  aisles,  most  of  the  people  wearing  the 
wooden  clogs  of  the  district.  But  while  Mr.  Redhead  was 
reading  the  second  lesson  the  whole  congregation,  as  by 
one  impulse,  began  to  leave  the  church,  making  all  the  noise 
they  could  with  clattering  and  clumping  of  clogs,  till,  at 
length,  Mr.  Redhead  and  the  clerk  were  the  only  two  left  to 
continue  the  service.  This  was  bad  enough,  but  the  next 
Sunday  the  proceedings  were  far  worse.  Then,  as  before, 
the  church  was  well  filled,  but  the  aisles  were  left  clear  ;  not 
a  creature,  not  an  obstacle  was  in  the  way.  The  reason  for 
this  was  made  evident  about  the  same  time  in  the  reading 
of  the  service  as  the  disturbances  had  begun  the  previous 
week.  A  man  rode  into  the  church  upon  an  ass,  with  his 
face  turned  towards  the  tail,  and  as  many  old  hats  piled 
on  his  head  as  he  could  possibly  carry.  He  began  urging 
his  beast  round  the  aisles,  and  the  screams,  and  cries,  and 
laughter  of  the  congregation  entirely  drowned  all  sound 
of  Mr.  Redhead^s  voice,  and,  I  believe,  he  was  obliged 
to  desist. 

Hitherto  they  had  not  proceeded  to  anything  like  per- 
sonal violence;  but  on  the  third  Sunday  they  must  have 
been  greatly  irritated  at  seeing  Mr.  Redhead,  determined 
to  brave  their  will,  ride  up  the  village  street,  accompanied 
by  several  gentlemen  from  Bradford.  They  put  up  their 
horses  at  the  '  Black  Bull'  —  the  little  inn  close  upon  the 
churchyard,  for  the  convenience  of  arvills  as  well  as  for 
other  purposes — and  went  into  church.  On  this  the  people 
followed,  with  a  chimney-sweeper,  whom  they  had  employed 
to  clean  the  chimneys  of  some  out-buildings  belonging  to 
the  church  that  very  morning,  and  afterward  plied  with 
drink  till  he  was  in  a  state  of  solemn  intoxication.  They 
placed  him  right  before  the  reading-desk,  where  his  black- 
ened face  nodded  a  drunken,  stupid  assent  to  all  that 


30 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BKOJ^TE 


Mr.  Redhead  said.  At  last,  either  prompted  by  some  mis- 
chief-maker or  from  some  tipsy  impulse,  he  clambered  np 
the  pulpit  stairs,  and  attempted  to  embrace  Mr.  Redhead. 
Then  the  profane  fun  grew  fast  and  furious.  Some  of  the 
more  riotous  pushed  the  soot -covered  chimney-sweeper 
against  Mr.  Redhead,  as  he  tried  to  escape.  They  threw 
both  him  and  his  tormentor  down  on  the  ground  in  the 
churchyard  where  the  soot -bag  had  been  emptied,  and 
though,  at  last,  Mr.  Redhead  escaped  into  the  ^  Black 
Bull,'  the  doors  of  which  were  immediately  barred,  the 
people  raged  without,  threatening  to  stone  him  and  his 
friends.  One  of  my  informants  is  an  old  man,  who  was  the 
landlord  of  the  inn  at  the  time,  and  he  stands  to  it  that  such 
was  the  temper  of  the  irritated  mob  that  Mr.  Redhead  was 
in  real  danger  of  his  life.  This  man,  however,  planned  an 
escape  for  his  unpopular  inmates.  The  '  Black  Bull '  is 
near  the  top  of  the  long,  steep  Haworth  street,  and  at  the 
bottom,  close  by  the  bridge,  on  the  road  to  Keighley,  is  a 
turnpike.  Giving  directions  to  his  hunted  guests  to  steal 
out  at  the  back  door  (through  which,  probably,  many  a 
ne'er-do-weel  has  escaped  from  good  Mr.  Grimshaw's  horse- 
whip), the  landlord  and  some  of  the  stable  boys  rode  the 
horses  belonging  to  the  party  from  Bradford  backwards 
and  forwards  before  his  front  door,  among  the  fiercely  ex- 
pectant crowd.  Through  some  opening  between  the  houses 
those  on  the  horses  saw  Mr.  Redhead  and  his  friends  creep- 
ing along  behind  the  street;  and  then,  striking  spurs,  they 
dashed  quickly  down  to  the  turnpike ;  the  obnoxious  cler- 
gyman and  his  friends  mounted  in  haste,  and  had  sped  some 
distance  before  the  people  found  out  that  their  prey  had 
escaped,  and  came  running  to  the  closed  turnpike  gate.' 
This  was  Mr.  Redhead's  last  appearance  at  Haworth  for 

^  Mr.  Redhead's  son-in-law  wrote  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  remonstrating  with 
ber  concerning  tliese  pages,  and  indeed  denying  tliis  account  of  bis 
father-in-law's  Haworth  associations,  but  giving  another  as  true,  'in 
which,*  writes  Mrs.  Gaskell  to  a  friend,  'I  don't  see  any  great  differ- 
ence.' 


HAWORTH  VILLAGE — MAIN  STREET. 


LiSRARY 
Of  1HE 
UNIVgKSiTY  vf  lUINOlD 


CHURCH  RIOTS  AT  HA  WORTH 


31 


many  years.  Long  afterwards  he  came  to  preach,  and  in 
his  sermon  to  a  large  and  attentive  congregation  he  good- 
humonredlj  reminded  them  of  the  circumstances  which  I 
have  described.  They  gave  him  a  hearty  welcome,  for  they 
owed  him  no  grudge  ;  although  before  they  had  been  ready 
enough  to  stone  him,  in  order  to  maintain  what  they  con- 
sidered to  be  their  rights. 

The  foregoing  account,  which  I  heard  from  two  of  the 
survivors,  in  the  presence  of  a  friend  who  can  vouch  for  the 
accuracy  of  my  repetition,  has  to  a  certain  degree  been  con- 
firmed by  a  letter  from  the  Yorkshire  gentleman  whose 
words  I  have  already  quoted. 

am  not  surprised  at  your  difficulty  in  authenticating 
matter  of  fact.  I  find  this  in  recalling  what  I  have  heard, 
and  the  authority  on  which  I  have  heard  anything.  As  to 
the  donkey  tale,  I  believe  you  are  right.  Mr.  Redhead  and 
Dr.  Ramsbotham,  his  son-in-law,  are  no  strangers  to  me. 
Each  of  them  has  a  niche  in  my  affections. 

'  I  have  asked,  this  day,  two  persons  who  lived  in 
Haworth  at  the  time  to  which  you  allude,  the  son  and 
daughter  of  an  acting  trustee,  and  each  of  them  between 
sixty  and  seventy  years  of  age,  and  they  assure  me  that  the 
donkey  was  introduced.  One  of  them  says  it  was  mounted 
by  a  half-witted  man,  seated  with  his  face  towards  the  tail 
of  the  beast,  and  having  several  hats  piled  on  his  head. 
Neither  of  my  informants  was,  however,  present  at  these 
edifying  services.  I  believe  that  no  movement  was  made 
in  the  church  on  either  Sunday  until  the  whole  of  the 
authorised  reading  -  service  was  gone  through,  and  I  am 
sure  that  nothing  was  more  remote  from  the  more  re- 
spectable party  than  any  personal  antagonism  towards  Mr. 
Redhead.  He  was  one  of  the  most  amiable  and  worthy  of 
men,  a  man  to  myself  endeared  by  many  ties  and  obliga- 
tions. I  never  heard  before  your  book  that  the  sweep 
ascended  the  pulpit  steps.  He  was  present,  however,  in 
the  clerical  habiliments  of  his  order.  ...  I  may  also  add 
that  among  the  many  who  were  present  at  those  sad 


33 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


Sunday  orgies  the  majority  were  non-residents,  and  came 
from  those  moorland  fastnesses  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
parish  locally  designated  as  ovver  th^  steyres,"  one  stage 
more  remote  than  Haworth  from  modern  civilisation. 

^To  an  instance  or  two  more  of  the  rusticity  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  chapelry  of  Haworth  I  may  introduce 
you. 

Haworth  carrier  called  at  the  office  of  a  friend  of 
mine  to  deliver  a  parcel  on  a  cold  winter's  day,  and  stood 
with  the  door  open.  Robin  !  shut  the  door  V  said  the 
recipient.  Have  you  no  doors  in  your  country  Yoi/^ 
responded  Robin,  we  hev,  but  we  nivver  steik  'em.'^  I 
have  frequently  remarked  the  number  of  doors  open  even  in 
winter. 

^  When  well  directed,  the  indomitable  and  independent 
energies  of  the  natives  of  this  part  of  the  country  are  in- 
valuable ;  dangerous  when  perverted.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  fierce  actions  and  utterances  of  one  suffering  from 
delirium  tremens.  Whether  in  its  wrath,  disdain,  or  its 
dismay,  the  countenance  was  infernal.  I  called  once  upon 
a  time  on  a  most  respectable  yeoman,  and  I  was,  in  language 
earnest  and  homely,  pressed  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  the 
house.  I  consented.  The  word  to  me  was,  *^Nah,  maister, 
yah  mun  stop  an' hev  sum  te-ah,  yah  mun,  eah,  yah  mun.'' 
A  bountiful  table  was  soon  spread ;  at  all  events  time  soon 
went  while  I  scaled  the  hills  to  see  t'  maire  at  wor  thretty 
year  owd,  an' t'  foil  at  wor  fower."  On  sitting  down  to  the 
table,  a  venerable  woman  officiated,  and  after  filling  the 
cups  she  thus  addressed  me:  ^^Nah,  maister,  yah  mun 
loawze  th'  taible"  (loose  the  table).    The  master  said. 

Shah  meeans  yah  mun  sey  t'  greyce.^'  I  took  the  hint 
and  uttered  the  blessing. 

spoke  with  an  aged  and  tried  woman  at  one  time, 
who,  after  recording  her  mercies,  stated,  among  others,  her 
powers  of  speech,  by  asserting,  Thank  the  Lord,  ah  nivver 
wor  a  meilly-meouthed  wumman.^'  I  feel  particularly  at 
fault  in  attempting  the  orthography  of  the  dialect,  but  must 


HAWORTH  CHARACTERISTICS  33 


excuse  myself  by  telling  yon  that  I  once  saw  a  letter  in 
which  the  word  I  have  just  now  used  (excuse)  was  written 
^^ecksqueaize"  ! 

^  There  are  some  things,  however,  which  rather  tend  to 
soften  the  idea  of  the  rudeness  of  Haworth.  No  rural  dis- 
trict has  been  more  markedly  the  abode  of  musical  taste 
and  acquirement,  and  this  at  a  period  when  it  was  difficult 
to  find  them  to  the  same  extent  apart  from  towns  in  advance 
of  their  times.  I  have  gone  to  Haworth  and  found  an 
orchestra  to  meet  me,  filled  with  local  performers,  vocal  and 
instrumental,  to  whom  the  best  works  of  Handel,  Haydn, 
Mozart,  Marcello,  &c.  &c.,  were  familiar  as  household  words. 
By  knowledge,  taste,  and  voice  they  were  markedly  separate 
from  ordinary  village  choirs,  and  have  been  put  in  extensive 
requisition  for  the  solo  and  chorus  of  many  an  imposing 
festival.  One  man  ^  still  survives,  who,  for  fifty  years,  has  had 
one  of  the  finest  tenor  voices  I  ever  heard,  and  with  it  a 
refined  and  cultivated  taste.  To  him  and  to  others  many 
inducements  have  been  offered  to  migrate ;  but  the  loom, 
the  association,  the  mountain  air  have  had  charms  enow  to 
secure  their  continuance  at  home.  I  love  the  recollection 
of  their  performance  ;  the  recollection  extends  over  more 
than  sixty  years.  The  attachments,  the  antipathies,  and 
the  hospitalities  of  the  district  are  ardent,  hearty,  and 
homely.  Cordiality  in  each  is  the  prominent  characteris- 
tic. As  a  people,  these  mountaineers  have  ever  been  ac- 
cessible to  gentleness  and  truth,  so  far  as  I  have  known 
them ;  but  excite  suspicion  or  resentment,  and  they  give 
emphatic  and  not  impotent  resistance.  Compulsion  they 
defy. 

'  I  accompanied  Mr.  Heap  on  his  first  visit  to  Haworth 
after  his  accession  to  the  vicarage  of  Bradford.  It  was  on 
Easter  Day,  either  1816  or  1817.  His  predecessor,  the 
venerable  John  Crosse,  known  as  the     blind  vicar,'^  had 

^  This  *  one  man '  was  Thomas  Parker  (1787-1866),  *  the  Yorkshire 
Braham,'  who  was  buried  at  Oxenhope,  near  Haworth. 
3 


34  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


been  inattentive  to  the  vicarial  claims.  A  searching  in- 
vestigation had  to  be  made  and  enforced,  and  as  it  pro- 
ceeded stout  and  sturdy  utterances  were  not  lacking  on 
the  part  of  the  parishioners.  To  a  spectator,  though  rude, 
they  were  amusing,  and  significant,  foretelling  what  might 
be  expected,  and  what  was  afterwards  realised,  on  the  ad- 
vent of  a  new  incumbent,  if  they  deemed  him  an  intruder. 

^Prom  their  peculiar  parochial  position  and  circum- 
stances, the  inhabitants  of  the  chapelry  have  been  prompt, 
earnest,  and  persevering  in  their  opposition  to  church  rates. 
Although  ten  miles  from  the  mother  church,  they  were 
called  upon  to  defray  a  large  proportion  of  this  obnoxious 
tax — I  believe  one-fifth. 

^  Besides  this  they  had  to  maintain  their  own  edifice,  &c. 
&c.  They  resisted,  therefore,  with  energy,  that  which  they 
deemed  to  be  oppression  and  injustice.  By  scores  would 
they  wend  their  way  from  the  hills  to  attend  a  vestry  meet- 
ing at  Bradford,  and  in  such  service  failed  not  to  show  less 
of  the  suaviter  in  modo  than  the  fortiter  in  re.  Happily 
such  occasion  for  their  action  has  not  occurred  in  many 
years. 

'  The  use  of  patronymics  has  been  common  in  this 
locality.  Inquire  for  a  man  by  his  Christian  name  and  sur- 
name, and  you  may  have  some  diflBculty  in  finding  him; 
ask,  however,  for  George  o'  Ned's, or  Dick  o'  Bob's,'' 
or  Tom  o' Jack's,"  as  the  case  may  be,  and  your  difficulty 
is  at  an  end.  In  many  instances  the  person  is  designated 
by  his  residence.  In  my  early  years  I  had  occasion  to  in- 
quire for  Jonathan  Whitaker,  who  owned  a  considerable 
farm  in  the  township.  I  was  sent  hither  and  thither,  until 
it  occurred  to  me  to  ask  for  Jonathan  o'  th'  Gate.'^  My 
difficulties  were  then  at  an  end.  Such  circumstances  arise 
out  of  the  settled  character  and  isolation  of  the  natives. 

'  Those  who  have  witnessed  a  Haworth  wedding,  when 
the  parties  were  above  the  rank  of  labourers,  will  not  easily 
forget  the  scene.  A  levy  was  made  on  the  horses  of  the 
neighbourhood,  and  a  merry  cavalcade  of  mounted  men  and 


HA  WORTH  CHARACTERISTICS  35 


women,  single  or  doable,  traversed  the  way  to  Bradford 
Church.  The  inn  and  church  appeared  to  be  in  natural 
connection,  and,  as  the  labours  of  the  Temperance  Society 
had  then  to  begin,  the  interests  of  sobriety  were  not  al- 
ways consulted.  On  remounting  their  steeds  they  com- 
menced with  a  race,  and  not  unfrequently  an  inebriate  or 
unskilful  horseman  or  woman  was  put  liors  de  combat,  A 
race  also  was  frequent  at  the  end  of  these  wedding  expe- 
ditions, from  the  bridge  to  the  toll-bar  at  Haworth.  The 
racecourse  you  will  know  to  be  anything  but  level. ^ 

Into  the  midst  of  this  lawless  yet  not  unkindly  popula- 
tion Mr.  Bronte  brought  his  wife  and  six  little  children,  in 
February  1820.  There  are  those  yet  alive  who  remember 
seven  heavily  laden  carts  lumbering  slowly  up  the  long 
stone  street,  bearing  the  ^  new  parson^s^  household  goods 
to  his  future  abode. 

One  wonders  how  the  bleak  aspect  of  her  new  home — 
the  low  oblong  stone  parsonage,  high  up,  yet  with  a  still 
higher  background  of  sweeping  moors  —  struck  on  the 
gentle,  delicate  wife,  whose  health  even  then  was  failing. 


CHAPTER  III 


The  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte  is  a  native  of  the  County  Down 
in  Ireland.*  His  father,  Hugh  Bronte,  was  left  an  orphan 
at  an  early  age.  He  came  from  the  south  to  the  north  of 
the  island,  and  settled  in  the  parish  of  Ahaderg,  near 
Longhbrickland.  There  was  some  family  tradition  that, 
humble  as  Hugh  Bronte's'*  circumstances  were,  he  was  the 
descendant  of  an  ancient  family.  But  about  this  neither 
he  nor  his  descendants  have  cared  to  inquire.  He  made 
an  early  marriage  and  reared  and  educated  ten  children  on 
the  proceeds  of  the  few  acres  of  land  which  he  farmed. 
This  large  family  were  remarkable  for  great  physical 
strength  and  much  personal  beauty.  Even  in  his  old  age 
Mr.  Bronte  is  a  striking-looking  man,  above  the  common 
height,  with  a  nobly  shaped  head  and  erect  carriage.  In 
his  youth  he  must  have  been  unusually  handsome. 

He  was  born  on  Patrickmas  Day  (March  17)  1777,  and 
early  gave  tokens  of  extraordinary  quickness  and  intelli- 
gence.   He  had  also  his  full  share  of  ambition  ;  and  of  his 

*  Hugh  Bronte's  father  '  used  to  live  in  a  farm  on  the  banks  of  the 
Boyne,  somewhere  above  Drogheda '  (Dr.  William  Wright,  The  Brontes 
in  Ireland).  The  late  Dr.  Wright  (1837-1899)  added  some  valuable 
facts  to  the  history  of  the  Irish  Brontes,  but  his  speculations  concern- 
ing their  origin  and  their  influence  on  the  novelists,  Charlotte  and 
Emily,  were,  for  the  most  part,  pure  fiction. 

2  Hugh  Bronte  was  married  in  1776,  in  the  parish  church  at  Mag- 
herally,  to  Alice  McClory,  of  Ballinasceaugh.  Patrick  Bronte  was 
born  in  a  cottage  at  Emdale,  '  in  the  parish  of  Drumballyroney,  and 
not  in  the  parish  of  Ahaderg,  or  Aghaderg,  as  has  been  incorrectly 
stated '  (Wright).  The  nine  other  children  were  named  William, 
Hugh,  James,  Welsh,  Jane,  Mary,  Rose,  Sarah,  and  Alice.* 


THE  REV.  PATRICK  BRONTE 


37 


strong  sense  and  forethought  there  is  a  proof  in  the  fact 
that,  knowing  that  his  father  could  afford  him  no  pecun- 
iary aid,  and  that  he  must  depend  upon  his  own  exertions, 
he  opened  a  public  school  at  the  early  age  of  sixteen  ;  and 
this  mode  of  living  he  continued  to  follow  for  five  or  six 
years.  ^  He  then  became  a  tutor  in  the  family  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Tighe,  rector  of  Drumgooland  parish.  Thence  he 
proceeded  to  St.  John^s  College,  Cambridge,  where  he  was 
entered  in  July  1802,  being  at  the  time  five-and-twenty 
years  of  age.  After  nearly  four  years''  residence  he  ob- 
tained his  B.A.  degree,  and  was  ordained  to  a  curacy  in 
Essex,  whence  he  removed  into  Yorkshire.  The  course  of 
life  of  which  this  is  the  outline  shows  a  powerful  and 
remarkable  character,  originating  and  pursuing  a  purpose 
in  a  resolute  and  independent  manner.  Here  is  a  youth — a 
boy  of  sixteen — separating  himself  from  his  family,  and  de- 
termining to  maintain  himself  ;  and  that  not  in  the  hered- 
itary manner  by  agricultural  pursuits,  but  by  the  labour  of 
his  brain. 

I  suppose,  from  what  I  have  heard,  that  Mr.  Tighe  be- 
came strongly  interested  in  his  children's  tutor,  and  may 
have  aided  him  not  only  in  the  direction  of  his  studies,  but 
in  the  suggestion  of  an  English  University  education,  and 
in  advice  as  to  the  mode  in  which  he  should  obtain  en- 
trance there.'    Mr.  Bronte  has  now  no  trace  of  his  Irish 

*  The  statement  in  the  text  is  not  quite  accurate.  Patrick  Bronte 
began  life  as  a  hand -loom  weaver.  At  sixteen  he  was  appointed 
teacher  of  Glascar  School,  attached  to  Glascar  Hill  Presbyterian 
Church,  and  some  two  years  later  he  became  master  of  the  parish 
school  of  Diumballyroney,  attached  to  the  Episcopalian  Church,  of 
which  the  Rev.  Thomas  Tighe  was  rector,  as  also  of  the  allied  parish 
of  Drumgooland  for  forty-three  years. 

*  Dr.  Wright  suggested  that  it  was  probably  with  his  own  savings 
as  teacher  at  Drumballyroney  that  Patrick  Bronte  proceeded  to  St. 
John's  College,  Cambridge.  At  Cambridge,  where  he  was  entered  in 
October  1802,  he  obtained  one  of  the  Hare  Exhibitions,  one  of  the 
Duchess  of  Suffolk's  Exhibitions,  and  the  Goodman  Exhibition.  He 
took  his  B.A.  degree  in  April  1806.     At  College  he  knew  Henry 


38 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BKONTfi 


origin  remaining  in  his  speech  ;  he  never  could  have  shown 
his  Celtic  descent  in  the  straight  Greek  lines  and  long  oval 
of  his  face  ;  but  at  five-and-twenty,  fresh  from  the  only  life 
he  had  ever  known,  to  present  himself  at  the  gates  of  St. 
John's  proved  no  little  determination  of  will  and  scorn  of 
ridicule.^ 

While  at  Cambridge  he  became  one  of  a  corps  of  volun- 
teers, who  were  then  being  called  out  all  over  the  country 
to  resist  the  apprehended  invasion  by  the  French.  I  have 
heard  him  allude,  in  late  years,  to  Lord  Palmerston  as 
one  who  had  often  been  associated  with  him  then  in  the 
mimic  military  duties  which  they  had  to  perform. 

We  take  him  up  now  settled  as  a  curate  at  Hartshead, 
in  Yorkshire — far  removed  from  his  birthplace  and  all  his 
Irish  connections  ;  with  whom,  indeed,  he  cared  little  to 
keep  up  any  intercourse,  and  whom  he  never,  I  believe,  re- 
visited after  becoming  a  student  at  Cambridge.^ 

Kirke  White  (1785-1806),  the  poet,  who  was  a  sizar  at  St.  John's 
at  the  same  time. 

*  Mr.  Bronte's  first  curacy  was  at  Wethersfield,  in  Essex,  in  1806  ; 
his  second  was  at  Wellington,  Salop,  in  1809  ;  his  third  at  Dewsbury, 
in  1809  ;  his  fourth  at  Hartshead-cum-Clifton,  near  Huddersfield,  in 
1811.  In  1815  he  removed  to  Thornton,  near  Bradford,  where  his 
younger  children  Charlotte,  Patrick  Branwell,  Emily  Jane,  and 
Anne  were  born,  and  in  1820  he  became  perpetual  incumbent  of 
Haworth, 

Patrick  Bront(5  regularly  sent  money  to  his  family  in  Ireland 
from  the  moment  he  had  any  to  send.    Some  of  the  money  obtained 
from  his  scholarship  went  to  his  mother,  and  Dr.  Wright  declares 
(Brontes  in  Ireland)  that  she  always  had  twenty  pounds  a  year  from  ; 
him.    In  his  will  Patrick  Bront^i  says,  '  I  leave  forty  pounds  to  be  \ 
equally  divided  amongst  all  my  brothers  and  sisters,  to  whom  I  gave  /■ 
considerable  sums  in  times  past ;  and  I  direct  the  same  sum  of  forty 
pounds  to  be  sent  for  distribution  to  Mr.  Hugh  Bronte,  Ballinasceaugh,  ' 
near  Loughbrickland,  Ireland.'    He  certainly  sent  a  copy  of  the  fourth 
edition  of  Jane  Eyre  to  his  brother  Hugh,  although  I  doubt  the  sug- 
gestion which  has  been  made  that  a  copy  of  the  first  edition  of  that 
book  was  sent  by  Charlotte  Bronte  to  her  Irish  relatives.    In  any  case 
Mr.  Bronte  visited  Ireland  at  least  once.    Soon  after  his  ordination 
he  preached  in  Bally roney  Churcli. 


Of  iHt. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  BRANWELL 


39 


Hartshead  is  a  very  small  village,  lying  to  the  east  of 
Huddersfieldand  Halifax  ;  and  from  its  high  situation — on 
a  mound,  as  it  were,  surrounded  by  a  circular  basin — com- 
manding a  magnificent  view.  Mr.  Bronte  resided  here  for 
five  years  ;  and,  while  the  incumbent  of  Hartshead,  he 
wooed  and  married  Maria  Branwell. 

She  was  the  third  daughter  of  Mr.  Thomas  Branwell, 
merchant,  of  Penzance.  Her  mother^s  maiden  name  was 
Carne  ;  and,  both  on  father^s  and  mother's  side,  the  Bran- 
well family  were  sufficiently  well  descended  to  enable  them 
to  mix  in  the  best  society  that  Penzance  then  afforded. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Branwell  would  be  living — their  family  of 
four  daughters  and  one  son,  still  children — during  the  ex- 
istence of  that  primitive  state  of  society  which  is  well  de- 
scribed by  Dr.  Davy  in  the  life  of  his  brother.^ 

^In  the  same  town,  when  the  population  was  about  2,000 
persons,  there  was  only  one  carpet,  the  floors  of  rooms  were 
sprinkled  with  sea  sand,  and  there  was  not  a  single  silver 
fork. 

^At  that  time,  when  our  colonial  possessions  were  very 
limited,  our  army  and  navy  on  a  small  scale,  and  there  was 
comparatively  little  demand  for  intellect,  the  younger  sons 
of  gentlemen  were  often  of  necessity  brought  up  to  some 
trade  or  mechanical  art,  to  which  no  discredit,  or  loss  of 
caste,  as  it  were,  was  attached.  The  eldest  son,  if  not  al- 
lowed to  remain  an  idle  country  squire,  was  sent  to  Oxford 
or  Cambridge,  preparatory  to  his  engaging  in  one  of  the 
three  liberal  professions  of  divinity,  law,  or  physic  ;  the 
second  son  was  perhaps  apprenticed  to  a  surgeon  or  apothe- 
cary, or  a  solicitor ;  the  third  to  a  pewterer  or  watchmaker ; 
the  fourth  to  a  packer  or  mercer,  and  so  on,  were  there 
more  to  be  provided  for. 

^  After  their  apprenticeships  were  finished  the  young  men 
almost  invariably  went  to  London  to  perfect  themselves  in 

^  Dr.  John  Davy's  Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy^  Bart, 
was  published  in  1836. 


40 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


their  respective  trade  or  art ;  and  on  their  return  into  the 
country,  when  settled  in  business,  they  were  not  excluded 
from  what  would  now  be  considered  genteel  society.  Visit- 
ing then  was  conducted  differently  from  what  it  is  at  pres- 
ent. Dinner  parties  were  almost  unknown,  excepting  at 
the  annual  feast  time.  Christmas,  too,  was  then  a  season 
of  peculiar  indulgence  and  conviviality,  and  a  round  of 
entertainments  were  given,  consisting  of  tea  and  supper. 
Excepting  at  these  two  periods,  visiting  was  almost  entirely 
confined  to  tea  parties,  which  assembled  at  three  o'clock, 
broke  up  at  nine,  and  the  amusement  of  the  evening  was 
commonly  some  round  game  at  cards,  as  Pope  Joan,  or 
Commerce.  The  lower  class  was  then  extremely  ignorant, 
and  all  classes  were  very  superstitious ;  even  the  belief  in 
witches  maintained  its  ground,  and  there  was  an  almost 
unbounded  credulity  respecting  the  supernatural  and  mon- 
strous. There  was  scarcely  a  parish  in  the  Mount's  Bay  that 
was  without  a  haunted  house,  or  a  spot  to  which  some  story 
of  supernatural  horror  was  not  attached.  Even  when  I  was 
a  boy,  I  remember  a  house  in  the  best  street  of  Penzance 
which  was  uninhabited  because  it  was  believed  to  be  haunt- 
ed, and  which  young  people  walked  by  at  night  at  a  quick- 
ened pace,  and  with  a  beating  heart.  Amongst  the  middle 
and  higher  classes  there  was  little  taste  for  literature,  and 
still  less  for  science,  and  their  pursuits  were  rarely  of  a 
dignified  or  intellectual  kind.  Hunting,  shooting,  wrest- 
ling, cock-fighting,  generally  ending  in  drunkenness,  were 
what  they  most  delighted  in.  Smuggling  was  carried  on  to 
a  great  extent ;  and  drunkenness,  and  a  low  state  of  morals, 
were  naturally  associated  with  it.  Whilst  smuggling  was 
the  means  of  acquiring  wealth  to  bold  and  reckless  advent- 
urers, drunkenness  and  dissipation  occasioned  the  ruin  of 
many  respectable  families.' 

I  have  given  this  extract  because  I  conceive  it  bears  some 
reference  to  the  life  of  Miss  Bronte,  whose  strong  mind  and 
vivid  imagination  must  have  received  their  first  impres- 
sions either  from  the  servants  (in  that  simple  household 


MISS  BRANWELUS  LETTERS  41 


almost  friendly  companions  during  the  greater  part  of  the 
day),  retailing  the  traditions  or  the  news  of  Haworth  vil- 
lage; or  from  Mr.  Bronte,  whose  intercourse  with  his  chil- 
dren appears  to  have  been  considerably  restrained,  and 
whose  life,  both  in  Ireland  and  at  Cambridge,  had  been 
spent  under  peculiar  circumstances ;  or  from  her  aunt.  Miss 
Branwell,  who  came  to  the  parsonage,  when  Charlotte  was 
only  six  or  seven  years  old,  to  take  charge  of  her  dead  sister^s 
family.  This  aunt  was  older  than  Mrs.  Bronte,  and  had 
lived  longer  among  the  Penzance  society,  which  Dr.  Davy 
describes.  But  in  the  Branwell  family  itself  the  violence 
and  irregularity  of  nature  did  not  exist.  They  were 
Methodists,  and,  as  far  as  I  can  gather,  a  gentle  and  sincere 
piety  gave  refinement  and  purity  of  character.*  Mr.  Bran- 
well, the  father,  according  to  his  descendants'  account,  was 
a  man  of  musical  talent.  He  and  his  wife  lived  to  see  all 
their  children  grown  up,  and  died  within  a  year  of  each 
other — he  in  1808,  she  in  1809,  when  their  daughter  Maria 
was  twenty-five  or  twenty-six  years  of  age,    I  have  been 

*  Investigation  at  Penzance  will  not  now  throw  much  new  light  on 
the  Branwells.  They  are  buried  in  a  vault  in  the  churchyard  of  St. 
Mary's,  and  initials  only  mark  the  last  resting-place  of  Charlotte 
Bronte's  maternal  grandfather  and  grandmother.  The  vault  is  marked 
*  T.  B.  1808,'  and  is  near  the  front  door  of  the  south  aisle  of  the 
church.  When  the  vault  was  opened  in  1897  the  sexton  copied  the 
names  from  various  coffins — 'Benjamin,'  'Johanna/  'Maria/  'Eliza- 
beth,' '  Jane' — and  there  were  other  Branwells  there.  Thomas  Bran- 
well, who  is  described  as  Assistant  of  the  Corporation,  was  buried  on 
April  8,  1808.  His  wife  was  Anne  Carne,  and  they  were  married  at 
Madron — the  Mother  Church  of  Penzance — on  November  28,  1768. 
Mrs.  Branwell  was  buried  on  December  22,  1809.  Mr.  and  Mrs, 
Thomas  Branwell  had  one  son  and  six  daughters.  The  name  is  still 
not  uncommon  in  Cornwall  and  even  in  Penzance,  but  the  last  surviv- 
ing relatives,  two  or  three  years  ago,  appeared  to  be  a  Miss  Charlotte 
Branwell  and  her  brother,  Thomas  Bronte  Branwell.  The  former, 
who  died  in  1898,  had  named  her  house  '  Shirley,'  after  one  of  the 
works  of  her  remote  cousin.  Miss  Branwell  possessed  some  interest- 
ing miniatures  of  Thomas  Branwell  and  his  wife,  and  of  Maria  Bronte, 
and  Elizabeth  Branwell,  the  aunt  of  the  Bronte  children  who  died  at 
Haworth. 


42 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


permitted  to  look  over  a  series  of  nine  letters,  which  were 
addressed  by  her  to  Mr.  Bronte  during  the  brief  term  of 
their  engagement  in  1812.  They  are  full  of  tender  grace  of 
expression  and  feminine  modesty;  pervaded  by  the  deep 
piety  to  which  I  have  alluded  as  a  family  characteristic.  I 
shall  make  one  or  two  extracts  from  them,  to  show  what 
sort  of  a  person  was  the  mother  of  Charlotte  Bronte :  but 
first  I  must  state  the  circumstances  under  which  this 
Cornish  lady  met  the  scholar  from  Ahaderg,  near  Lough- 
brickland.  In  the  early  summer  of  1812,  when  she  would 
be  twenty-nine,  she  came  to  visit  her  uncle,  the  Reverend 
John  Fennell,  who  was  at  that  time  a  clergyman  of  the 
Church  of  England,  living  near  Leeds,  but  who  had  pre- 
viously been  a  Methodist  minister.^  Mr.  Bronte  was  the 
incumbent  of  Ilartshead  ;  and  had  the  reputation  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  being  a  very  handsome  fellow,  full  of  Irish 
enthusiasm,  and  with  something  of  an  Irishman's  capability 
of  falling  easily  in  love.  Miss  Branwell  was  extremely  small 
in  person;  not  prett)'',  but  very  elegant,  and  always  dressed 
with  a  quiet  simplicity  of  taste,  which  accorded  well  with  her 
general  character,  and  of  which  some  of  the  details  call  to 
mind  the  style  of  dress  preferred  by  her  daughter  for  her 
favourite  heroines.  Mr.  Bronte  was  soon  captivated  by  the 
little,  gentle  creature,  and  this  time  declared  that  it  was  for 
life.  In  her  first  letter  to  him,  dated  August  26,  she  seems 
almost  surprised  to  find  herself  engaged,  and  alludes  to  the 
short  time  which  she  has  known  him.  In  the  rest  there 
are  touches  reminding  one  of  Juliet's 

But  trust  me,  gentleman  ;  I'll  prove  more  true 
Than  those  that  have  more  cunning  to  be  strange. 

There  are  plans  for  happy  picnic  parties  to  Kirkstall 
Abbey,  in  the  glowing  September  days,  when  '  Uncle,  Aunt, 

^  Mr.  Fennell  was  at  this  time  head-master  of  Woodhouse  Grove 
Wesleyan  Academy.  He  afterwards  joined  tho  Church  of  England, 
and  was  for  a  short  time  curate  for  the  Rev.  John  Crosse,  vicar  of 
Bradford.    He  died  at  Cross  Stones  Vicarage,  near  Todmorden. 


MISS  BRANWELL'S  LETTERS 


43 


and  Cousin  Jane' — the  last  engaged  to  a  Mr.  Morgan/  an- 
other clergyman — were  of  the  party;  all  since  dead,  ex- 
cept Mr.  Bronte.  There  was  no  opposition  on  the  part  of 
any  of  her  friends  to  her  engagement.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fennell 
sanctioned  it,  and  her  brother  and  sisters  in  far-away  Pen- 
zance appear  fully  to  have  approved  of  it.  In  a  letter 
dated  September  18  she  says  : — 

'  For  some  years  I  have  been  perfectly  my  own  mistress, 
subject  to  no  control  whatever  ;  so  far  from  it  that  my  sis- 
ters, who  are  many  years  older  than  myself,  and  even  my 
dear  mother,  used  to  consult  me  on  every  occasion  of  im- 
portance, and  scarcely  ever  doubted  the  propriety  of  my 
opinions  and  actions :  perhaps  you  will  be  ready  to  accuse 
me  of  vanity  in  mentioning  this,  but  you  must  consider 
that  I  do  not  boast  of  it.  I  have  many  times  felt  it  a  dis- 
advantage, and  although,  I  thank  God,  it  had  never  led  me 
into  error,  yet,  in  circumstances  of  uncertainty  and  doubt, 
I  have  deeply  felt  the  want  of  a  guide  and  instructor.^  In 
the  same  letter  she  tells  Mr.  Bronte  that  she  has  informed 
her  sisters  of  her  engagement,  and  that  she  should  not  see 
them  again  so  soon  as  she  had  intended.  Mr.  Fennell,  her 
uncle,  also  writes  to  them  by  the  same  post  in  praise  of 
Mr.  Bronte. 

The  Journey  from  Penzance  to  Leeds  in  those  days  was 
both  very  long  and  very  expensive  ;  the  lovers  had  not 
much  money  to  spend  in  unnecessary  travelling,  and,  as 
Miss  Branwell  had  neither  father  nor  mother  living,  it  ap- 
peared both  a  discreet  and  seemly  arrangement  that  the 
marriage  should  take  place  from  her  uncle's  housCo  There 
was  no  reason  either  why  the  engagement  should  be  pro- 
longed. They  were  past  their  first  youth  ;  they  ha.d  means 
sufficient  for  their  unambitious  wants  ;  the  livinr^  of  Harts- 
head  is  rated  in  the  ^  Clergy  List '  at  202Z.  per  annum,  and 
she  was  in  the  receipt  of  a  small  annuity  (50Z.,  I  have  been 

*  The  Rev.  William  Morgan  (1789-1858),  the  first  vicar  of  Christ 
Church,  Bradford,  and  the  author  of  several  devotional  works.  He 
married  Miss  Fennell,  the  cousin  of  Mrs.  Bronte. 


44  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


told)  by  the  will  of  her  father.  So,  at  the  end  of  Septem- 
ber, the  lovers  began  to  talk  about  taking  a  house,  for  I 
suppose  that  Mr.  Bronte  up  to  that  time  had  been  in  lodg- 
ings ;  and  all  went  smoothly  and  successfully  with  a  view 
to  their  marriage  in  the  ensuing  winter,  until  November, 
when  a  misfortune  happened,  which  she  thus  patiently  and 
prettily  describes : — 

'  I  suppose  you  never  expected  to  be  much  the  richer  for 
me,  but  I  am  sorry  to  inform  you  that  I  am  still  poorer 
than  I  thought  mysell  I  mentioned  having  sent  for  my 
books,  clothes,  &c.  Oa  Satuiday  evening,  about  the  time 
when  you  were  v/riting  the  description  of  your  imaginary 
shipwreck,  I  was  reading  and  feeling  the  effects  of  a  real 
one,  having  then  received  a  1  tter  from  my  sister  giving 
me  an  account  of  the  vessel  in  which  she  had  sent  my  box 
being  stranded  on  the  coast  of  Devonshire,  in  consequence 
of  which  the  box  was  dashed  to  pieces  with  the  violence  of 
the  sea,  and  all  my  little  property,  with  the  exception  of 
a  very  few  articles,  being  swallowed  up  in  the  mighty 
deep.  li  this  should  not  prove  the  prelude  to  something 
worse,  I  shall  think  little  of  it,  as  it  is  the  first  disas- 
trous circumstance  which  has  occurred  since  I  left  my 
home.^ 

The  last  of  these  letters  is  dated  December  5.  Miss 
Branwell  and  her  cousin  intended  to  set  about  making  the 
wedding  cake  in  the  following  week,  so  the  marriage  could 
not  be  far  off.  She  had  been  learning  by  heart  a  '  pretty 
little  hymn '  of  Mr.  Bronte's  composing  ;  and  reading  Lord 
Lyttelton's  ^Advice  to  a  Lady,^  on  which  she  makes  some 
pertinent  and  just  remarks,  showing  that  she  thought  as 
well  as  read.  And  so  Maria  Branwell  fades  out  of  sight : 
we  have  no  more  direct  intercourse  with  her ;  we  hear  of 
her  as  Mrs.  Bronte,  but  it  is  as  an  invalid,  not  far  from 
death  ;  still  patient,  cheerful,  and  pious.  The  writing  of 
these  letters  is  elegant  and  neat ;  while  there  are  allusions 
to  household  occupations  —  such  as  making  the  wedding 
cake — there  are  also  allusions  to  the  books  she  has  read. 


MRS.  BRONTE 


45 


or  is  reading,  showing  a  well-cultivated  mind.  Without 
having  anything  of  her  daughter's  rare  talents,  Mrs. 
Bronte  must  have  been,  I  imagine,  that  unusual  charac- 
ter, a  well-balanced  and  consistent  woman.  The  style  of 
the  letters  is  easy  and  good,  as  is  also  that  of  a  paper  from 
the  same  hand,  entitled  ^The  Advantages  of  Poverty  in 
Religious  Concerns,'  which  was  written  rather  later,  with 
a  view^  to  publication  in  some  periodical.^ 

She  was  married  from  her  uncle's  house  in  Yorkshire, 
on  December  29,  1812 ;  ^  the  same  day  was  also  the  wed- 
ding day  of  her  younger  sister,  Charlotte  Branwell,  in  dis- 
tant Penzance.  I  do  not  think  that  Mrs.  Bronte  ever  re- 
visited Cornwall,  but  she  has  left  a  very  pleasant  impres- 
sion on  the  minds  of  those  relations  who  yet  survive ;  they 
speak  of  her  as  ^  their  favourite  aunt,  and  one  to  whom 
they,  as  well  as  all  the  family,  looked  up,  as  a  person  of 
talent  and  great  amiability  of  disposition;'  and,  again,  as 
^meek  and  retiring,  while  possessing  more  than  ordinary 
talents,  which  she  inherited  from  her  father  ;  and  her  piety 
was  genuine  and  unobtrusive.' 

Mr.  Bronte  remained  for  five  years  at  Hartshead,  in  the 
parish  of  Dewsbury.    There  he  was  married,  and  his  two 

^  The  letters  from  which  Mrs.  Gaskell  quotes  the  most  interesting 
passages  are  printed  in  full  in  Charlotte  Bronte  and  her  Circle.  One 
of  them  commences,  'My  dear  saucy  Pat.'  The  essay,  which  is  in 
my  possession,  consists  of  three  sheets  of  quarto  paper  in  a  very  neat 
handwriting,  written  on  both  sides  of  the  page.  It  is  signed  *  M.'  On 
the  blank  page  at  the  end  Mr.  Bronte  has  endorsed  the  manuscript, 
•  The  above  was  written  by  my  dear  wife,  and  sent  for  insertion  in  one 
of  the  periodical  publications.    Keep  it  as  a  memorial  of  her/ 

2  The  following  announcement  will  be  found  in  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine  for  1813,Vol.  LXXXIIL,  Part  I.,  p.  179,  under  Marriages:-^ 

'Lately  at  Guiseley,  near  Bradford,  by  the  liev.  W.  Morgan,  min- 
ister of  Bierley,  Rev.  P.  Bronte,  B.A.,  minister  of  Hartshead-cum- 
Clifton,  to  Maria,  third  daughter  of  the  late  T.  Bromwell,  Esq.  [sic), 
of  Penzance.  And  at  the  same  time,  by  the  Rev.  P.  Bronte,  Rev.  W. 
Morgan  to  the  only  daughter  of  Mr.  John  Fennell,  head  -  master  of 
the  Wesley  an  Academy,  near  Bradford.' 


46 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


children  Maria  and  Elizabeth  were  born.^  At  the  expira- 
tion of  that  period  he  had  the  living  of  Thornton,  in"  Brad- 
ford parish.  Some  of  those  great  West  Riding  parishes 
are  almost  like  bishoprics  for  their  amount  of  population 
and  number  of  churches.  Thornton  Church'  is  a  little 
episcopal  chapel  of  ease,  rich  in  Nonconformist  monu- 
ments, as  of  Accepted  Lister  and  his  friend  Dr.  Hall.  The 
neighbourhood  is  desolate  and  wild  ;  great  tracts  of  bleak 
land,  enclosed  by  stone  dykes,  sweeping  up  Clayton  heights. 
The  church  itself  looks  ancient  and  solitary,  and  as  if  left 
behind  by  the  great  stone  mills  of  a  flourishing  Indepen- 
dent firm,  and  the  solid  square  chapel  built  by  the  mem- 
bers of  that  denomination.  Altogether  not  so  pleasant  a 
place  as  Hartshead,  with  its  ample  outlook  over  cloud- 
shadowed,  sun-flecked  plain,  and  hill  rising  beyond  hill  to 
form  the  distant  horizon. 

Here,  at  Thornton,  Charlotte  Bronte  was  born,  on  April 
21,  1816.  Fast  on  her  heels  followed  Patrick  Branwell, 
Emily  Jane,  and  Anne.  After  the  birth  of  this  last 
daughter  Mrs.  Bronte's  health  began  to  decline.  It  is  hard 
work  to  provide  for  the  little  tender  wants  of  many  young 


^  Here  is  the  copy  of  llie  registration  of  Maria  Bronte's  baptism  at 
Hartshead  cum  Clif ton.    Elizabeth  was  baptised  at  Thornton: — 


When 
Bap- 
tised 

Child's 
Christian 
Name 

Parents'  Name 

Abode 

Quality, 
Trade,  or 
Profession 

By  whom  the 
Ceremony  was 
Performed 

Christ- 
ian 

Sur- 
name 

1814, 
April 
23 

Maria, 
daughter 
of 

The  Rev. 
Patrick 
minister 
of  this 
church, 

and 
Maria, 
his  wife 

Bronte 

William 
Morgan, 
officiating 
Minister 

2  The  Old  Bell  Church  at  Thornton,  in  which  Mr.  Bronte  preached, 


THE  BRONTE  BAPTISMAL  REGISTER  47 


children  where  the  means  are  bnt  limited.  The  necessaries 
of  food  and  clothing  are  much  more  easily  supplied  than 
the  almost  equal  necessaries  of  attendance^  care^  soothing, 
amusement,  and  sympathy.  Maria  Bronte,  the  eldest  of 
six,  could  only  have  been  a  few  months  more  than  six  years 
old  when  Mr.  Bronte  removed  to  Haworth,  on  February  25, 
1830.  Those  who  knew  her  then  describe  her  as  grave, 
thoughtful,  and  quiet,  to  a  degree  far  beyond  her  years. 

is  now  a  ruin.  A  new  church  exactly  opposite  contains  the  registers 
of  the  baptisms  of  the  Bronte  children,  as  follows  : 


*  Baptisms  solemnised  in  the  Parish  of  Bradford  and  Ghapelry  of 
Thornton,  in  the  County  of  York. 


When 
Bap- 
tised 

Child's 
Christian 
Name 

Parents' 

Christ- 
Ian 

Name 

Sur- 
name 

Abode 

Quality, 
Trade,  or 
Profession 

By  whom  (he 
Ceremony  was 
Performed 

1815, 

August 

OA 
ZD 

Elizabeth 

Patrick 

and 
Id!  aria 

Bronte 

Thorn- 
ton 

Minister 

J.  Fennell, 
officiating 
Minister 

1816, 
June 
29 

Charlotte, 
daughter 
of 

The  Rev. 
Patrick 

and 
Maria 

Bronte 

Thorn- 
ton 

Minister 

of 
Thorn- 
ton 

Wm,  Morgan, 

Minister  of 
Christ  Church, 
Bradford 

1817, 
July 
23 

Patrick 
Branwell, 
son  of 

Patrick 

and 
Maria 

Bronte 

Thorn- 
ton 

Minister 

Jno.  Fennell, 
officiating 
Minister 

1818, 
August 
20 

Emily 
Jane, 
daughter 
of 

The  Rev. 
Patrick 

and 
Maria 

Bronte, 
A.B. 

Thorn- 
ton 

Parson- 
age 

Minister 

of 
Thorn- 
ton 

Wm.  Morgan 
Minister  of, 
Christ  Church, 
Bradford 

1820, 
March 
25 

Anne, 
daughter 
of 

The  Rev. 
Patrick 

and 
Maria 

Bronte 

Minister 
of 

Haworth 

Wm.  Morgan, 
Minister  of 
Christ  Church, 
in  Bradford ' 

48 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Her  childhood  was  no  childhood  ;  the  cases  are  rare  in 
which  the  possessors  of  great  gifts  have  known  the  bless- 
ings of  that  careless,  happy  time ;  their  unusual  powers 
stir  within  them,  and,  instead  of  the  natural  life  of  per- 
ception— the  objective,  as  the  Germans  call  it — they  begin 
the  deeper  lifo  of  reflection — the  subjective. 

Little  Maria  Bronte  was  delicate  and  small  in  appearance, 
which  seemed  to  give  greater  effect  to  her  wonderful  pre- 
cocity of  intellect.  She  must  have  been  her  mother's 
companion  and  helpmate  in  many  a  household  and  nursery 
experience,  for  Mr.  Bronte  was,  of  course,  much  engaged 
in  his  study ;  and,  besides,  he  was  not  naturally  fond  of 
children,  and  felt  their  frequent  appearance  on  the  scene 
both  as  a  drag  on  his  wife's  strength  and  as  an  interruption 
to  the  comfort  of  the  household. 

Haworth  Parsonage  is,  as  I  mentioned  in  the  first  chapter, 
an  oblong  stone  house,  facing  down  the  hill  on  which  the 
village  stands,  and  with  the  front  door  right  opposite  to 
the  western  door  of  the  church,  distant  about  a  hundred 
yards.  Of  this  space  twenty  yards  or  so  in  depth  are  occu- 
pied by  the  grassy  garden,  which  is  scarcely  wider  than  the 
house.  The  graveyard  lies  on  two  sides  of  the  house  and 
garden.  The  house  consists  of  four  rooms  on  each  floor, 
and  is  two  stories  high.  When  the  Brontes  took  possession 
they  made  the  larger  parlour,  to  the  left  of  the  entrance,  the 
family  sitting-room,  while  that  on  the  right  was  appropri- 
ated to  Mr.  Bronte  as  a  study.  Behind  this  was  the  kitchen ; 
behind  the  former,  a  sort  of  flagged  store  room.^  Upstairs 
were  four  bed-chambers  of  similar  size,  with  the  addition 
of  a  small  apartment  over  the  passage,  or  'lobby,^  as  we 
call  it  in  the  north.  This  was  to  the  front,  the  staircase 
going  up  right  opposite  to  the  entrance.  There  is  the 
pleasant  old  fashion  of  window  seats  all  through  the  house ; 
and  one  can  see  that  the  parsonage  was  built  in  the  days 

^  The  *  flagged  store  room*  was  converted  into  a  study  for  Mr. 
NichoUs  during  his  brief  married  life.  It  reverted  to  its  earlier  pur- 
pose during  the  incumbency  of  Mr.  Wade. 


LIBRARY 

OF  iHh 

UNIVEHSITV  ut  ILLIQUID 


MR.  BRONTE'S  EXCLUSIVENESS  49 


when  wood  was  plentiful,  as  the  massive  stair  banisters, 
and  the  wainscots,  and  the  heavy  window  frames  tes- 
tify. 

This  little  extra  upstairs  room  was  appropriated  to  the 
children.  Small  as  it  was,  it  was  not  called  a  nursery ;  in- 
deed, it  had  not  the  comfort  of  a  fireplace  in  it ;  the  ser- 
vants— two  affectionate,  warm-hearted  sisters,  who  cannot 
now  speak  of  the  family  without  tears — called  the  room  the 
^  children's  study.'  The  age  of  the  eldest  student  was 
perhaps  by  this  time  seven. 

The  people  in  Haworth  were  none  of  them  very  poor. 
Many  of  them  were  employed  in  the  neighbouring  worsted 
mills ;  a  few  were  millowners  and  manufacturers  in  a  small 
way  ;  there  were  also  some  shopkeepers  for  the  humbler  and 
everyday  wants ;  but  for  medical  advice,  for  stationery, 
books,  law,  dress,  or  dainties  the  inhabitants  had  to  go  to 
Keighley.  There  were  several  Sunday  schools  ;  the  Bap- 
tists had  taken  the  lead  in  instituting  them,  the  Wesleyans 
had  followed,  the  Church  of  England  had  brought  up  the 
rear.  Good  Mr.  Grimshaw,  Wesley's  friend,  had  built  a 
humble  Methodist  chapel,  but  it  stood  close  to  the  road 
leading  on  to  the  moor ;  the  Baptists  then  raised  a  place  of 
worship,  with  the  distinction  of  being  a  few  yards  back 
from  the  highway ;  and  the  Methodists  have  since  thought 
it  well  to  erect  another  and  larger  chapel,  still  more  retired 
from  the  road.  Mr.  Bronte  was  ever  on  kind  and  friendly 
terms  with  each  denomination  as  a  body  ;  but  from  individ- 
uals in  the  village  the  family  stood  aloof,  unless  some  direct 
service  was  required,  from  the  first.  ^  They  kept  them- 
selves very  close,'  is  the  account  given  by  those  who  re- 
member Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bronte's  coming  amongst  them.  I 
believe  many  of  the  Yorkshire  men  would  object  to  the 
system  of  parochial  visiting;  their  surly  independence 
would  revolt  from  the  idea  of  any  one  having  a  right,  from 
his  office,  to  inquire  into  their  condition,  to  counsel  or  to 
admonish  them.  The  old  hill  spirit  lingers  in  them  which 
coined  the  rhyme,  inscribed  on  the  under  part  of  one  of  the 


50 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


seats  in  the  sedilia  of  Whalley  Abbey,  not  many  miles  from 
Haworth — 

Who  mells  wi'  what  another  does 
Had  best  go  home  and  shoe  his  goose. 

I  asked  an  inhabitant  of  a  district  close  to  Haworth 
what  sort  of  a  clergyman  they  had  at  the  church  which  he 
attended. 

'  A  rare  good  one/  said  he  :  ^  he  minds  his  own  business, 
and  ne^er  troubles  himself  with  ours/ 

Mr.  Bronte  was  faithful  in  visiting  the  sick  and  all  those 
who  sent  for  him,  and  diligent  in  attendance  at  the  schools; 
and  so  was  his  daughter  Charlotte  too;  but,  cherishing  and 
valuing  privacy  themselves,  they  were  perhaps  over-deli- 
cate in  not  intruding  upon  the  privacy  of  others. 

From  their  first  going  to  Haworth  their  walks  were 
directed  rather  out  towards  the  heathery  moors,  sloping 
upwards  behind  the  parsonage,  than  towards  the  long 
descending  village  street.  A  good  old  woman,  who  came 
to  nurse  Mrs.  Bronte  in  the  illness — an  internal  cancer — 
which  grew  and  gathered  upon  her,  not  many  months  after 
her  arrival  at  Haworth,  tells  me  that  at  that  time  the  six 
little  creatures  used  to  walk  out,  hand  in  hand,  towards 
the  glorious  wild  moors,  which  in  after  days  they  loved 
so  passionately ;  the  elder  ones  taking  thoughtful  care  for 
the  toddling  wee  things. 

They  were  grave  and  silent  beyond  their  years  ;  subdued, 
probably,  by  the  presence  of  serious  illness  in  the  house  ; 
for,  at  the  time  which  my  informant  speaks  of,  Mrs.  Bronte 
was  confined  to  the  bedroom  from  which  she  never  came 
forth  alive.  '  You  would  not  have  known  there  was  a  child 
in  the  house,  they  were  such  still,  noiseless,  good  little 
creatures.  Maria  would  shut  herself  up '  (Maria,  but 
seven  !)  ^  in  the  children's  study  with  a  newspaper  and  be 
able  to  tell  one  everything  when  she  came  out ;  debates  in 
Parliament,  and  I  don't  know  what  all.  She  was  as  good 
as  a  mother  to  her  sisters  and  brother.    But  there  never 


THE  BRONTE  CHILDREN 


51 


were  such  good  children.  I  used  to  think  them  spirit- 
less, they  were  so  different  from  any  children  I  had  ever 
seen.  They  were  good  little  creatures.  Emily  was  the 
prettiest.^ 

Mrs.  Bronte  was  the  same  patient,  cheerful  person  as  we 
have  seen  her  formerly ;  very  ill,  suffering  great  pain,  but 
seldom  if  ever  complaining ;  at  her  better  times  begging 
her  nurse  to  raise  her  in  bed  to  let  her  see  her  clean  the 
grate,  '  because  she  did  it  as  it  was  done  in  Cornwall  ;^  de- 
votedly fond  of  her  husband,  who  warmly  repaid  her  affec- 
tion, and  suffered  no  one  else  to  take  the  night-nursing  ;  but, 
according  to  my  informant,  the  mother  was  not  very  anxious 
to  see  much  of  her  children,  probably  because  the  sight  of 
them,  knowing  how  soon  they  were  to  be  left  motherless, 
would  have  agitated  her  too  much.  So  the  little  things 
clung  quietly  together,  for  their  father  was  busy  in  his 
study  and  in  his  parish,  or  with  their  mother,  and  they 
took  their  meals  alone  ;  sat  reading,  or  whispering  low,  in 
the  ^  children's  study,'  or  wandered  out  on  the  hillside, 
hand  in  hand. 

The  ideas  of  Rousseau  and  Mr.  Day^  on  education  had 
filtered  down  through  many  classes,  and  spread  themselves 
widely  out.  I  imagine  Mr.  Bronte  must  have  formed  some 
of  his  opinions  on  the  management  of  children  from  these 
two  theorists.  His  practice  was  not  half  so  wild  or  extraor- 
dinary as  that  to  which  an  aunt  of  mine  was  subjected  by 
a  disciple  of  Mr.  Day's.  She  had  been  taken  by  this  gen- 
tleman and  his  wife,  to  live  with  them  as  their  adopted 
child,  perhaps  about  five-and-twenty  years  before  the  time 
of  which  I  am  writing.  They  were  wealthy  people  and 
kind-hearted,  but  her  food  and  clothing  were  of  the  very 
simplest  and  rudest  description,  on  Spartan  principles.  A 
healthy,  merry  child,  she  did  not  much  care  for  dress  or 
eating ;  but  the  treatment  which  she  felt  as  a  real  cruelty 

1  Rousseau  (1712-78)  published  Emile  in  1762.  Thomas  Day  (1748- 
89)  published  The  History  of  Sa^ndford  and  Merton  in  1783-89. 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


was  this :  They  had  a  carriage,  in  which  she  and  the  fa- 
vourite dog  were  taken  an  airing  on  alternate  days ;  the 
creature  whose  turn  it  was  to  be  left  at  home  being  tossed 
in  a  blanket  —  an  operation  which  my  aunt  especially 
dreaded.  Her  affright  at  the  tossing  was  probably  the 
reason  why  it  was  persevered  in.  Dressed-up  ghosts  had 
become  common,  and  she  did  not  care  for  them,  so  the 
blanket  exercise  was  to  be  the  next  mode  of  hardening  her 
nerves.  It  is  well  known  that  Mr.  Day  broke  off  his  inten- 
tion of  marrying  Sabrina,  the  girl  whom  he  had  educated  for 
this  purpose,  because,  within  a  few  weeks  of  the  time  fixed 
for  the  wedding,  she  was  guilty  of  the  frivolity,  while  on  a 
visit  from  home,  of  wearing  thin  sleeves.  Yet  Mr.  Day 
and  my  aunt^s  relations  were  benevolent  people,  only 
strongly  imbued  with  the  crotchet  that  by  a  system  of  train- 
ing might  be  educed  the  hardihood  and  simplicity  of  the 
ideal  savage,  forgetting  the  terrible  isolation  of  feelings 
and  habits  which  their  pupils  would  experience  in  the 
future  life  which  they  must  pass  among  the  corruptions 
and  refinements  of  civilisation. 

Mr.  Bronte  wished  to  make  his  children  hardy,  and  in- 
different to  the  pleasures  of  eating  and  dress.  In  the  lat- 
ter he  succeeded,  as  far  as  regarded  his  daughters. 

His  strong,  passionate  Irish  nature  was,  in  general,  com- 
pressed down  with  resolute  stoicism ;  but  it  was  there  not- 
withstanding all  his  philosophic  calm  and  dignity  of  de- 
meanour; though  he  did  not  speak  when  he  was  annoyed 
or  displeased.  Mrs.  Bronte,  whose  sweet  nature  thought 
invariably  of  the  bright  side,  would  say,  ^  Ought  I  not  to 
be  thankful  that  he  never  gave  me  an  angry  word?^* 

1  There  was  much  discnssioQ  rife  concerning  Mr.  Bronte  during 
the  years  immediatel}'  following  the  publication  of  Mrs.  Gaskell's  Me- 
moir. Certain  aspects  of  his  character  were  dealt  with  in  a  singularly 
unflattering  way  by  Mrs.  Gaskell  in  the  first  edition,  but,  owing  to 
Mr.  Bronte's  remonstrances,  the  prejudicial  statements  were  with- 
drawn. One  of  Mrs.  Gaskell's  informants  clearly  had  an  undue  prej- 
udice against  the  old  incumbent  of  Haworth,  but  the  unfavourable 


THE  FATHER  OF  THE  BRONTES 


53 


Mr.  Broil  te  was  an  active  walker,  stretching  away  over 
the  moors  for  many  miles,  noting  in  his  mind  all  natural 
signs  of  wind  and  weather,  and  keenly  observing  all  the 
wild  creatures  that  came  and  went  in  the  loneliest  sweeps 
of  the  hills.  He  has  seen  eagles  stooping  low  in  search  of 
food  for  their  young;  no  eagle  is  ever  seen  on  those  moun- 
tain slopes  now. 

He  fearlessly  took  whatever  side  in  local  or  national  pol- 
itics appeared  to  him  right.  In  the  days  of  the  Luddites 
he  had  been  for  the  peremptory  interference  of  the  law,  at  a 
time  when  no  magistrate  could  be  found  to  act,  and  all  the 
property  of  the  West  Riding  was  in  terrible  danger.  He 
became  unpopular  then  among  the  mill-workers,  and  he 
esteemed  his  life  unsafe  if  he  took  his  long  and  lonely  walks 
unarmed ;  so  he  began  the  habit,  which  has  continued  to 
this  day,  of  invariably  carrying  a  loaded  pistol  about  with 
him.  It  lay  on  his  dressing-table  with  his  watch ;  with  his 
watch  it  was  put  on  in  the  morning ;  with  his  watch  it  was 
taken  off  at  night.* 

Tiew  was  not  shared  by  others  who  have  been  heard  since  Mrs.  Gaskell 
wrote.  Mr.  Bronte  in  any  case  won  the  kindly  judgment  of  his  son- 
in-law,  Mr.  Nicholis,  and  the  servant— Martha  Brown— who  lived  with 
him  until  his  death.  Both  asserted,  and  Mr.  Nicholis  is  still  alive  to 
assert,  that  Mr.  Bronte,  with  some  hastiness  of  temper,  was  a  good 
husband  and  father.  Sir  Wemyss  Reid,  however  {Nineteenth  Century, 
November  1896),  whose  recollections  of  the  Bronte  traditions  go  fur- 
ther back  than  those  of  any  one  else  who  has  written  on  the  subject, 
declares  that  Mrs.  Gaskell  had  abundant  ground  for  her  estimate, 
and  that  Mr.  Bronte  *  in  his  youth  and  early  manhood '  was  *  an  ex- 
tremely difficult  person  to  live  with.'  But  so  also  are  many  estimable 
men  who,  not  being  the  parents  of  children  of  genius,  succeed  in  pass- 
ing out  of  life  without  the  world's  condemnation. 

*  Mr.  Nicholis  declares  that  Mr.  Bronte's  pistol-shooting  was  merely 
the  harmless  recreation  of  a  country  clergyman.  There  are  traces  of 
a  bullet  shot  on  the  old  tower  at  Haworth,  but  this,  although  pointed 
out  as  Mr.  Bronte's  exploit,  would  seem  to  have  been  the  frolic  of  a 
curate.  After  the  fashion  of  most  of  his  contemporaries  he  frequently 
carried  a  pistol  or  a  gun  for  his  protection  at  night,  and  Nancy  Garrs 
declared  that  at  most  he  might  have  tried  his  skill  as  a  marksman  by 


54 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Many  years  later,  during  his  residence  at  Haworth,  there 
was  a  strike ;  the  hands  in  the  neighbourhood  felt  them- 
selves aggrieved  by  the  masters,  and  refused  to  work  :  Mr. 
Bronte  thought  that  they  had  been  unjustly  and  unfairly 

firing  at  his  own  pigeons.  The  matter  is  dealt  with  at  length  in  an  in- 
terview with  Nancy  Garrs,  one  of  the  Haworth  servants  {Heckmond- 
wike  Herald  and  Courier,  September  22,  1882): — 

*  Those  who  have  read  Mrs.  Gaskell's  book  (and  who  in  this  locality 
has  not  ?)  will  remember  the  extraordinary  stories  she  tells  of  Mr. 
Bronti5's  inflammable  temper — of  his  tearing  into  shreds  a  silk  dress 
belonging  to  his  wife,  which  he  did  not  approve  of  her  wearing  ;  of  his 
sawing  off  chair-backs  and  firing  off  pistols  in  the  back  yard  in  his  tre- 
mendous fits  of  passion.  They  will  remember  also  her  account  of  the 
more  than  Spartan  rigour  with  which  he  ruled  his  household,  and  his 
cold  and  unsympathetic  conduct  towards  his  gifted  children.  It  is 
rather  singular  that  Nancy  denies  nearly  all  the  sensational  stories  told 
by  the  imaginative  lady,  and  maintains  strongly  that  Mr.  Bronie  had  a 
calm  and  even  temperament,  and,  though  somewhat  of  a  recluse,  regard- 
ed with  the  most  affectionate  solicitude  every  member  of  his  family, 
and  was  always  kind  and  considerate  to  the  humblest  of  his  household. 
The  story  of  the  cutting  of  Mrs.  Bronte's  silk  dress  into  shreds,  which 
is  repeated  in  Mr.  T.  Wemyss  Reid's  book,  is  stoutly  denied  by  Nancy, 
who  lived  in  the  house  at  the  time,  and  therefore,  as  she  energetically 
observed  to  us,  knew  "  all  about  it  better  than  any  book-writer."  The 
story  given  by  this  eye-witness  is  as  follows  :  Mrs.  Bronte  had  bought 
a  buff  print  dress,  which  was  made  up  by  her  dressmaker  in  the  then 
fashionable  style,  with  balloon  sleeves  and  a  long  waist.  When  Mr. 
Bronte  came  in  to  dinner  and  saw  this  new  article  of  dress,  which 
would  doubtless  strike  his  unsophisticated  mind  as  being  fearfully  and 
wonderfully  made,  he  began  to  banter  his  wife  good-humouredly  con- 
cerning it,  commenting  with  special  awe  and  wonder  on  the  marvel- 
lous expanse  of  sleeve.  Mrs.  Bronte  took  all  the  raillery  in  good  part, 
and  the  meal  passed  off  pleasantly  enough.  In  the  afternoon  the  dress 
was  changed  and  left  in  the  room.  In  going  into  the  apartment  soon 
after  Mrs.  Bronte  found  the  offending  garment  where  she  had  left  it, 
but,  alas  !  the  beautiful  balloon  sleeves  had  disappeared.  Remember- 
ing the  badinage  which  had  passed  a  few  hours  before,  she  was  quite 
aware  who  had  done  the  ruthless  deed,  but  she  does  not  appear  to  have 
bewailed  the  departed  glories  of  her  dress  very  much,  for  she  soon  re- 
appeared in  the  kitchen  with  it,  and  laughingly  held  it  out  to  view, 
exclaiming,  ''Look,  Nancy,  what  master  has  done  !  Never  mind,  it 
will  do  for  you,"  and  so  she  handed  the  beautiful  buff  print  to  her  de- 


THE  REV.  MR.  BRONTfi 


55 


treated,  and  he  assisted  them  by  all  the  means  in  his  power 
to  'keep  the  wolf  from  their  doors/  and  avoid  the  incubus 
of  debt.  Several  of  the  more  influential  inhabitants  of 
Haworth  and  the  neighbourhood  were  mill-owners ;  they 
remonstrated  pretty  sharply  with  him,  but  he  believed  that 
his  conduct  was  right,  and  persevered  in  it. 

His  opinions  might  be  often  both  wild  and  erroneous,  his 
principles  of  action  eccentric  and  strange,  his  views  of  life 
partial,  and  almost  misanthropical  ;  but  not  one  opinion 
that  he  held  could  be  stirred  or  modified  by  any  worldly 
motive :  he  acted  up  to  his  principles  of  action  ;  and,  if  any 
touch  of  misanthropy  mingled  with  his  view  of  mankind  in 
general,  his  conduct  to  the  individuals  who  came  into  per- 
sonal contact  with  him  did  not  agree  with  such  view.  It 
is  true  that  he  had  strong  and  vehement  prejudices,  and 
was  obstinate  in  maintaining  them,  and  that  he  was  not 
dramatic  enough  in  his  perceptions  to  see  how  miserable 
others  might  be  in  a  life  that  to  him  was  all-sufficient. 
But  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  able  to  harmonise  points  of 
character,  and  account  for  them,  and  bring  them  all  into 
one  consistent  and  intelligible  whole.  The  family  with 
whom  I  have  now  to  do  shot  their  roots  down  deeper  than 
I  can  penetrate.  I  cannot  measure  them,  much  less  is  it 
for  me  to  judge  them.  I  have  named  these  instances  of 
eccentricity  in  the  father  because  I  hold  the  knowledge  of 
them  to  be  necessary  for  a  right  understanding  of  the  life 
of  his  daughter. 

lighted  Abigail,  who  would  doubtless  find  the  absence  of  the  balloon 
sleeves  a  decided  advantage.  Soon  after  Mr.  Bronte  entered  the  kitchen 
with  a  parcel  containing  a  new  silk  dress,  which  he  had  been  over  to 
Keighley  to  buy,  and  which  he  presented  to  his  wife,  in  place  of  the 
one  whose  naonstrous  development  of  sleeve  had  so  strongly  moved  to 
action  his  organ  of  destructiveness;  and  thus  the  tragic  business  ended, 
in  a  manner  that  would,  no  doubt,  be  pleasing  to  all  concerned.  Our 
readers,  we  are  sure,  will  agree  with  us  in  thinking  that  Nancy's 
version  is  decidedly  more  pleasing  than  Mrs.  Gaskell's,  and  as  she  actu- 
ally saw  the  occurrence,  which  is  more  than  either  that  writer  or  her 
informant  can  say,  we  are  inclined  to  think  it  is  more  probable  also.' 


56  LIFE  OF  CUARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


Mrs.  Bronte  died  in  September  1821,  and  the  lives  of 
those  quiet  children  must  have  become  quieter  and  lonelier 
still.  Charlotte  tried  hard,  in  after  years,  to  recall  the 
remembrance  of  her  mother,  and  could  bring  back  two  or 
three  pictures  of  her.  One  was  when,  some  time  in  the 
evening  light,  she  had  been  playing  with  her  little  boy, 
Patrick  Branwell,  in  the  parlour  of  Haworth  Parsonage. 
But  the  recollections  of  four  or  five  years  old  are  of  a  very 
fragmentary  character.* 

Owing  to  some  illness  of  the  digestive  organs  Mr.  Bronte 
was  obliged  to  be  very  careful  about  his  diet ;  and,  in  order 
to  avoid  temptation,  and  possibly  to  have  the  quiet  neces- 
sary for  digestion,  he  had  begun,  before  his  wife^s  death, 
to  take  his  dinner  alone — a  habit  which  he  always  retained. 
He  did  not  require  companionship  ;  therefore  he  did  not 
seek  it,  either  in  his  walks  or  in  his  daily  life.  The  quiet 
regularity  of  his  domestic  hours  was  only  broken  in  upon 
by  church  -  wardens,  and  visitors  on  parochial  business ; 
and  sometimes  by  a  neighbouring  clergyman,  who  came 
down  the  hills,  across  the  moors,  to  mount  up  again  to 
Haworth  Parsonage,  and  spend  an  evening  there.  But, 
owing  to  Mrs.  Bronte's  death  so  soon  after  her  husband 
had  removed  into  the  district,  and  also  to  the  distances, 
and  the  bleak  country  to  be  traversed,  the  wives  of  these 

>  There  are  two  interesting  reminiscences  of  Mrs.  Bronte  extant ; 
one  is  a  copy  of  'Thomas  d  Kern  pis, 'John  Wesley's  abridgment.  It  is 
inscribed  '  M.  Branwell,  July  1807.'  This  book  was  evidently  brought 
by  Mrs.  Bronte  from  Penzance.  On  the  fly-leaf  Charlotte  Bronte  has 
written  as  follows  : — 

*  C.  Bronte's  book.  This  book  was  given  to  me  in  July  1826.  It  is 
not  certainly  known  who  is  the  author,  but  it  is  generally  supposed 
that  Thomas  si  Kempis  is.  I  saw  a  reward  of  10,000Z.  offered  in  the 
Leeds  Mercury  to  any  one  who  could  find  out  for  a  certainty  who  is  the 
author.* 

The  other  relic  is  a  sampler  containing  the  usual  alphabet  that  chil- 
dren work  or  worked,  and  the  text,  '  Flee  from  sin  as  from  a  serpent, 
for  if  thou  comest  too  near  to  it  it  will  bite  thee  :  the  teeth  thereof  are 
as  the  teeth  of  a  lion  to  slay  the  souls  of  men,'  followed  by  the  name  :— 
Maria  Branwell  ended  her  sampler  April  15,  1791.  i 


THE  HA  WORTH  SERVANTS 


57 


clerical  f  rienais  did  not  accompany  their  husbands  ;  and 
the  danghtersi  grew  up  out  of  childhood  into  girlhood  be- 
reft^ in  a  singular  manner,  of  all  such  society  as  would 
hav^i  been  natub'al  to  their  age,  sex,  and  station. 

But  the  child.ren  did  not  want  society.  To  small  infan- 
tine  gaieties  they  w^ere  unaccustomed.  They  were  all  in 
all  to  each  otherl  I  do  not  suppose  that  there  ever  was 
a  fai^mily  more  tenderly  bound  to  each  other.  Maria  read 
the  ^  newspapers,  and  reported  intelligence  to  her  younger 
sistfc^.rs  which  it  is-  wonderful  they  could  take  an  interest  in. 
But  .  I  suspect  that  they  had  no  ^  children's  books,'  and 
that  l^heir  eag^^r  minds  browsed  undisturbed  among  the 
wholesome  pr-sturage  of  English  literature,'  as  Charles 
Lamib  expres^^es  it.  The  servants  of  the  household  appear 
to  bvi  ave  been  much  impressed  with  the  little  Brontes'  ex- 
traoruft^ng  j  cleverness.  In  a  letter  which  I  had  from  him 
on  this  g  ^^bject  their  father  writes,  ^  The  servants  of  ten  said 
that  thejr  had  never  seen  such  a  clever  little  child '  (as 
Charlotte),  '  'and  that  they  were  obliged  to  be  on  their 
•  what  they  said  and  did  before  her.  Yet  she 
rvants  always  lived  on  good  terms  with  each 


se 


guard  ^  tc 
and  thj 
other.' 

Thes.  ser 
Bradfo.l^ 

*The  irvai 
Tabitha.  J^a^ 
of  a  shoehi 
by  Mrb. 
Charlotte,  J 
to  HawortJ 
taking  her  ] 
married  and 
Malone,  a  W( 
in  her  eight 
Mrs.  Newsorr 
disliked  alldij 
kinder  mastei 
Haworth  and 
went  to  assist 


vants  are  yet  alive  ;  elderly  women  residing  in 
They  retain  a  faithful  and  fond  recollection  of 

its  were  Sarah  and  Nancy  Garrs,  Martha  Brown,  and 
icy  Malone,  born  Garrs,  or  de  Garrs,  was  the  daughter 
•  of  Bradford.    At  twelve  years  of  age  she  was  engaged 
tc,  then  at  Thornton,  as  nurse -girl,  and  she  nursed 
ily,  Branwell,  and  Anne.    She  accompanied  the  family 
aid  remained  there  as  cook,  her  younger  sister,  Sarah, 
,ce  as  nurse.    She  remained  with  the  Brontes  until  she 
ecame  Mrs.  Wainwright.  At  a  later  date  she  married  John 
^rkingman.   She  died  in  1886  in  the  Bradford  workhouse 
y- second  year.    Her  sister  Sarah  also  married,  and,  as 
ic,  is  still  alive  in  Iowa  City,  U.S.A.    Nancy  Malone 
sparaging  references  to  Mr.  Bronte,  and  declared  that  *a 
'  never  drew  breath.'    Martha  Brown  was  a  native  of 
servant  with  the  Brontes  from  her  tenth  year,  when  she 
'Tabby.'    She  became  housekeeper  at  the  parsonage 


^^narioLie,  una  speaK  oi  ner  unvarying  Kinapiess  from  the 
'time  when  she  was  ever  such  a  little  child/  wher.  she 
would  not  rest  till  she  had  got  the  old  disalsed  cradle  sent 
f  rotn  the  parsonage  to  the  house  where  thcfe  parents  oft  one 
of  them  lived,  to  serve  for  a  little  infant  Siister.    Theyi  tell 
of  one  long  series  of  kind  and  thoughtful!  actions  from  lathis 
early  period  to  the  last  weeks  of  Oharlo  tte  Bronte's  1  ife  ; 
and,  though  she  had  left  her  place  many  years  ago,  orje  of 
these  former  servants  went  over  from  Bradford  to  Haw^orth 
on  purpose  to  see  Mr.  Bronte,  and  offer  him  her  true,- sym- 
pathy, when  his  last  child  died.    I  may  add  a  little  anec- 
dote as  a  testimony  to  the  admirable  charac^ter  of  the^  like- 
ness of  Miss  Bronte  prefixed  to  this  volume.'  AgentlJfeman 
who  had  kindly  interested  himself  in  the  ^^reparati(P)n  of 
this  memoir  took  the  first  volume,  shortly  afoer  the  pikibli- 
cation,  to  the  house  of  this  old  servant,  in  or^"  Vi^;0''show 
her  the  portrait.    The  moment  she  caught  a  gl        se  of  the 
frontispiece,  ^  There  she  is,'  she  exclaimed.   ^  (  John, 
look  !'  (to  her  husband) ;  and  her  daughter  equally 
struck  by  the  resemblance.    There  might  no  tany  to 

regard  the  Brontes  with  affection;  but  the  lo  once 

loved  them  loved  them  long  and  well. 

I  return  to  the  father's  letter.  He  says  : — 
^  When  mere  children,  as  soon  as  they  co 
write,  Charlotte  and  her  brother  and  sisters  u 
and  act  little  plays  of  their  own,  in  which 
Wellington,  my  daughter  Charlotte's  hero, 
come  off  conqueror ;  when  a  dispute  wouh 
quently  arise  amongst  them  regarding  the 


3ad  and 
)  invent 
Duke  of 
sure  to 
.ifre- 
parative 


from  Charlotte's  death  in  1855  until  the  death  of  Mr. 
She  died  at  Haworth,  January  19,  1880,  and  is  burie< 
Churchyard.   For  *Ta^hy/or  Tabitha  Aykroyd,  see  e 
and  169.  — «^-^ 

^  The  portrait  of  Charlotte  Bronte  which  has  hithert 
Mrs.  Gaskell's  biography,  and  is  prefixed  to  the  *  Jar 
present  edition,  is  that  by  George  Richmond  —  the 
likeness  extant.    The  original  is  in  the  possessioc 
Nicholls,  and  is  destined  by  him  for  the  National  Port 


ite  in  1861. 
.  Haworth 
1  on  pp.  61 

xompauied 
.yre'  of  the 
ly  authentic 
f  Mr.  A.  B. 
t  Gallery. 


MR.  BRONTE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  HIS  CHILDREN  59 

menl^s  of  him^  Buonaparte,  Hannibal,  and  Caesar.  When 
the  argirment  got  warm,  and  rose  to  its  height,  as  their 
mother  was  J-hen  dead,  I  had  sometimes  to  come  in  as  ar- 
bitrator, and  SL^ttle  the  dispute  according  to  the  best  of 
my  judgment.  Generally,  in  the  management  of  these  con- 
cerns, I  frequently  thought  that  I  discovered  signs  of  ris- 
ing talent,  which  I  had  sexMom  or  never  before  seen  in  any 
of  their  age.  ...  A  circumsit^ince  now  occurs  to  my  mind 
which  I  may  as  well  mention/^  When  my  children  were 
very  young,  when,  as  far  as  I  can  rein\ember,  the  oldest  was 
about  ten  years  of  age,  and  the  youngest  tc^bout  four,  think- 
ing that  they  knew  more  than  I  had  yet  dliscovered,  in 
order  to  make  them  speak  with  less  timidity,  T  deemed 
that  if  they  were  put  under  a  sort  of  cover  I  migfl^t  gain 
my  end ;  and  happening  to  have  a  mask  in  the  hou^j^e,  I 
told  them  all  to  stand  back  and  speak  boldly  from  uncilQr 
cover  of  the  mask. 

'  I  began  with  the  youngest  (Anne,  afterwards  Acton 
Bell),  and  asked  what  a  child  like  her  most  wanted ;  she 
answered,  Age  and  experience."  I  asked  the  next  (Emily,  \ 
afterwards  Ellis  Bell)  what  I  had  best  do  with  her 
brother,  Branwell,  who  was  sometimes  a  naughty  boy ;  she 
answered,  "  Reason  with  him,  and  when  he  won^'t  listen  to 
reason  whip  him."'  I  asked  Branwell  what  was  the  best 
way  of  knowing  the  difference  between  the  intellects  of 
man  and  woman;  he  answered,  By  considering  the  dif- 
ference between  them  as  to  their  bodies."^  I  then  asked 
Charlotte  what  was  the  best  book  in  the  world ;  she  an- 
swered, The  Bible."'  And  what  was  the  next  best;  she 
answered,  The  Book  of  Nature."  I  then  asked  the  next 
what  was  the  best  mode  of  education  for  a  woman  ;  she  an- 
swered, ^^That  which  would  make  her  rule  her  house  well." 
Lastly,  I  asked  the  oldest  what  was  the  best  mode  of  spend- 
ing time  ;  she  answered,  By  laying  it  out  in  preparation 
for  a  happy  eternity."  I  may  not  have  given  precisely  their 
words,  but  I  have  nearly  done  so,  as  they  made  a  deep  and 
lasting  impression  on  my  memory.  The  substance,  how- 
ever, was  exactly  what  I  have  stated.^ 


60 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


The  strange  and  quaint  simplicity  of  the  mode  tak'on  by 
the  father  to  ascertain  the  hidden  characters  of  'his  chil- 
dren, and  the  tone  and  character  of  these  (yuestions  and 
answers,  show  the  curious  education  whicJn  was  made  by 
the  circumstances  surrounding  the  Brontes.  They  knew 
no  other  children.  They  knew  no  Other  modes  of  thought 
than  what  were  suggested  to  tJnem  by  the  fragments  of 
clerical  conversation  which  t^iey  overheard  in  the  parlour, 
or  the  subjects  of  villa^'^^  and  local  interest  which  they 
heard  discussed  in  tb:\; 'kitchen.  Each  had  its  own  strong 
characteristic  fl^wv^our. 

They  tooV.  a  vivid  interest  in  the  public  characters,  and 
the  locaJi  and  foreign  as  well  as  home  politics  discussed  in 
the  ne^wspapers.  Long  before  Maria  Bronte  died,  at  the 
age  p/f  eleven,  her  father  used  to  say  he  could  converse  with 
hrc3'r  on  any  of  the  leading  topics  of  the  day  with  as  much 
freedom  and  pleasure  as  with  any  grown-up  person. 


CHAPTER  IV 


About  a  year  after  Mrs.  Bronte's  death  an  elder  sister,  as 
I  have  before  mentioned,  came  from  Penzance  to  superintend 
her  brother-in-law^s  household  and  look  after  his  children. 
Miss  BranwelP  was,  I  believe,  a  kindly  and  conscientious 

'  Elizabeth  Branwell,  by  many  supposed  —  although  altogether 
wrongly— to  have  been  the  original  in  some  aspects  of  Mrs.  Reed  in 
JaTie  Eyre,  would  seem  to  have  been  genuinely  devoted  to  her  nieces. 
Among  relics  of  her  that  survive  are  the  work-boxes  that  she  left  in 
her  will  to  Charlotte  and  Anne,  and  a  sampler  doubtless  brought  among 
her  modest  treasures  from  Penzance  to  Haworth.  Miss  Ellen  Nussey's 
descriptions  of  the  aunt  and  of  'Tabby'  the  servant  are  the  best  that 
I  have  seen  : — 

*  Miss  Branwell  was  a  very  small,  antiquated  little  lady  ;  she  wore 
caps  large  enough  for  half  a  dozen  of  the  present  fashion,  and  a  front 
of  light  auburn  curls  over  her  forehead.  She  always  dressed  in  silk. 
She  talked  a  great  deal  of  her  younger  days,  the  gaieties  of  her  native 
town,  Penzance,  in  Cornwall,  the  soft  warm  climate,  &c.  She  very 
probably  had  been  a  belle  among  her  acquaintances  ;  the  social  life  of 
her  younger  days  she  appeared  to  recall  with  regret.  She  took  snuff 
out  of  a  very  pretty  little  gold  snuff-box,  which  she  sometimes  pre- 
sented with  a  little  laugh,  as  if  she  enjoyed  the  slight  shock  and  aston- 
ishment visible  in  your  countenance.  In  summer  she  spent  most  of 
her  afternoons  in  reading  aloud  to  Mr.  Bronte,  and  in  the  winter  even- 
ings she  must  have  enjoyed  this,  for  she  and  Mr.  Bronte  had  some- 
times to  finish  their  discussions  on  what  she  had  read  when  we  all  met 
for  tea  ;  she  would  be  very  lively  and  intelligent  in  her  talk,  and  tilted 
argument  without  fear  against  Mr.  Bronte. 

*  "Tabby,"  the  faithful,  trustworthy  old  servant,  was  very  quaint 
in  appearance,  very  active,  and  in  those  days  was  the  general  servant 
and  factotum.  We  were  all  *'  children  "  and  "  bairns  "  in  her  estima- 
tion. She  still  kept  to  her  duty  of  walking  out  with  the  ''children  "  if 
they  went  any  distance  from  home,  unless  Branwell  were  sent  by  his 
father  as  protector.    In  later  days,  after  she  had  been  attacked  with 


62 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


woman,  with  a  good  deal  of  character,  but  with  the  some- 
what narrow  ideas  natural  to  one  who  had  spent  nearly  all 
her  life  in  the  same  place.  She  had  strong  prejudices,  and 
soon  took  a  distaste  to  Yorkshire.  From  Penzance,  where 
plants  which  we  in  the  north  call  greenhouse  flowers  grow 
in  great  profusion,  and  without  any  shelter  even  in  the 
winter,  and  where  the  soft  warm  climate  allows  the  inhab- 
itants, if  so  disposed,  to  live  pretty  constantly  in  the  open 
air,  it  was  a  great  change  for  a  lady  considerably  past  forty 
to  come  and  take  up  her  abode  in  a  place  where  neither 
flowers  nor  vegetables  would  flourish,  and  where  a  tree  of 
even  moderate  dimensions  might  be  hunted  for  far  and 
wide  ;  where  the  snow  lay  long  and  late  on  the  moors, 
stretching  bleakly  and  barely  far  up  from  the  dwelling 
which  was  henceforward  to  be  her  home  ;  and  where  often, 
on  autumnal  or  winter  nights,  the  four  winds  of  heaven 
seemed  to  meet  and  rage  together,  tearing  round  the 
house  as  if  they  were  wild  beasts  striving  to  find  an  en- 
trance. She  missed  the  small  round  of  cheerful  social  vis- 
iting perpetually  going  on  in  a  country  town  ;  she  missed 
the  friends  she  had  known  from  her  childhood,  some  of 
whom  had  been  her  parents^  friend^;  before  they  were  hers; 
she  disliked  many  of  the  customs  of  the  place,  and  partic- 
ularly dreaded  the  cold  damp  arising  from  the  flag  floors 
in  the  passages  and  parlours  of  Haworth  Parsonage.  The 
stairs,  too,  I  believe,  are  made  of  stone  ;  and  no  wonder, 
when  stone  quarries  are  near  and  trees  are  far  to  seek.  I 
have  heard  that  Miss  Branwell  always  went  about  the 
house  on  pattens,  clicking  up  and  down  the  stairs,  from 
her  dread  of  catching  cold.  For  the  same  reason,  in  the 
latter  years  of  her  life,  she  passed  nearly  all  her  time,  and 

paralysis,  she  would  anxiously  look  out  for  such  duties  as  she  was  still 
capable  of.  The  postman  was  her  special  point  of  attention  ;  she  did 
not  approve  of  the  inspections  which  the  younger  eyes  of  her  fellow 
servant  bestowed  on  his  deliveries  ;  she  jealously  seized  them  (when 
she  could),  and  carried  them  off  with  hobbling  step  and  shaking  head 
and  hand  to  the  safe  custody  of  Charlotte/ 


COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 


63 


took  most  of  her  meals,  in  her  bedroom.  The  children  re- 
spected her,  and  had  that  sort  of  affection  for  her  which  is 
generated  by  esteem  ;  but  I  do  not  think  they  ever  freely 
loved  her.  It  was  a  severe  trial  for  any  one  at  her  time  of 
life  to  change  neighbourhood  and  habitation  so  entirely  as 
she  did  ;  and  the  greater  her  merit. 

I  do  not  know  whether  Miss  Branwell  taught  her  nieces 
anything  besides  sewing^  and  the  household  arts  in  which 
Charlotte  afterwards  was  such  an  adept.  Their  regular 
lessons  were  said  to  their  father  ;  and  they  were  always  in 
the  habit  of  picking  up  an  immense  amount  of  miscella- 
neous information  for  themselves.  But  a  year  or  so  before 
this  time  a  school  had  been  begun  in  the  North  of  England 
for  the  daughters  of  clergymen.  The  place  was  Cowan 
Bridge,  a  small  hamlet  on  the  coach  road  between  Leeds 
and  Kendal,  and  thus  easy  of  access  from  Haworth,  as  the 
coach  ran  daily,  and  one  of  its  stages  was  at  Keighley. 
The  yearly  expense  for  each  pupil  (according  to  the  en- 
trance rules  given  in  the  Keport  for  1842,  and  I  believe 
they  had  not  been  increased  since  the  establishment  of  the 
school  in  1823)  was  as  follows: — 

'  Rule  IL  The  terms  for  clothing,  lodging,  boarding,  and 
educating  are  14Z.  a  year  ;  half  to  be  paid  in  advance,  when 
the  pupils  are  sent ;  and  also  11.  entrance  money,  for  the 
use  of  books,  &c.  The  system  of  education  comprehends 
history,  geography,  the  use  of  the  globes,  grammar,  writ- 
ing and  arithmetic,  all  kinds  of  needle  work,  and  the  nicer 
kinds  of  household  work,  such  as  getting  up  fine  linen, 
ironing,  &c.  If  accomplishments  are  required  an  addi- 
tional charge  of  3Z.  a  year  is  made  for  music  or  drawing, 
each.^ 

Rule  III.  requests  that  the  friends  will  state  the  line  of 

^  Charlotte's  gifts  of  sewing  were  marked.  Her  friend  Miss  Lae- 
titia  Wheelwright  possesses  a  beautifully  worked  bag  which  Miss 
Bronte  made  for  Mrs.  Wheelwright  when  on  a  visit  to  London.  A. 
neatly  worked  bead  purse,  also  the  outcome  of  her  skill,  was  sold  at 
Sotheby's  in  1898. 


64  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


education  desired  in  the  case  of  every  pupil,  having  a  re- 
gard to  her  future  prospects. 

Rule  IV.  states  the  clothing  and  toilette  articles  which 
a  girl  is  expected  to  bring  with  her  ;  and  thus  concludes : 
'  The  pupils  all  appear  in  the  same  dress.  They  wear  plain 
straw  cottage  bonnets  ;  in  summer  white  frocks  on  Sun- 
days, and  nankeen  on  other  days  ;  in  winter,  purple  stuff 
frocks,  and  purple  cloth  cloaks.  For  the  sake  of  uniform- 
ity, therefore,  they  are  required  to  bring  3Z.  in  lieu  of 
frocks,  pelisse,  bonnet,  tippet,  and  frills,  making  the 
whole  sum  which  each  pupil  brings  with  her  to  the  school — 

7^.  half-year  in  advance. 
11.  entrance  for  books. 
11.  entrance  for  clothes.' 

The  8tli  rule  is,  ^All  letters  and  parcels  are  inspected 
by  the  superintendent  \'  but  this  is  a  very  prevalent  regu- 
lation in  all  young  ladies'  schools,  where  I  think  it  is  gen- 
erally understood  that  the  schoolmistress  may  exercise  this 
privilege,  although  it  is  certainly  unwise  in  her  to  insist 
too  frequently  upon  it. 

There  is  nothing  at  all  remarkable  in  any  of  the  other 
regulations,  a  copy  of  which  was  doubtless  in  Mr.  Bronte's 
hands  when' he  formed  the  determination  to  send  his 
daughters  to  Cowan  Bridge  School ;  and  he  accordingly 
took  Maria  and  Elizabeth  thither  in  July  1824.^ 

^  The  Journal  of  Education  ior  January  1900  contained  the  following 
extracts  from  the  school  register  of  the  Clergy  Daughters'  School  at 
Casterton : — 

*  Charlotte  Bronte.  Entered  August  10,  1824.  Writes  indifferently. 
Ciphers  a  little,  and  works  neatly.  Knows  nothing  of  grammar, 
geography,  history,  or  accomplishments.  Altogether  clever  of  her 
age,  but  knows  nothing  systematically  (at  eight  years  old  !).  Left 
school  June  1,  1825. — Governess.' 

The  following  entries  may  also  be  of  interest: — 

'  Marie  Bronte,  aged  10  (daughter  of  Patrick  Bronte,  Haworth,  near 
Keighley,  Yorks).  July  1,  1824.  Reads  tolerably.  Writes  pretty 
well.    Ciphers  a  little.    Works  badly.    Very  little  of  geography  or 


COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 


65 


I  now  come  to  a  part  of  my  subject  which  I  find  great 
difficulty  in  treating,  because  the  evidence  relating  to  it  on 
each  side  is  so  conflicting  that  it  seems  almost  impossible 
to  arrive  at  the  truth.  Miss  Bronte  more  than  once  said 
to  me  that  she  should  not  have  written  what  she  did  of 
Lowood  in  ^  Jane  Eyre/  if  she  had  thought  the  place  would 
have  been  so  immediately  identified  with  Cowan  Bridge, 
although  there  was  not  a  word  in  her  account  of  the  insti- 
tution but  what  was  true  at  the  time  when  she  knew  it ; 
she  also  said  that  she  had  not  considered  it  necessary,  in  a 
work  of  fiction,  to  state  every  particular  with  the  impar- 
tiality that  might  be  required  in  a  court  of  justice,  nor  to 
seek  out  motives,  and  make  allowances  for  human  failings, 
as  she  might  have  done,  if  dispassionately  analysing  the 
conduct  of  those  who  had  the  superintendence  of  the  in- 
stitution. I  believe  she  herself  would  have  been  glad  of  an 
opportunity  to  correct  the  over-strong  impression  which 
was  made  upon  the  public  mind  by  her  vivid  picture, 
though  even  she,  suffering  her  whole  life  long,  both  in 
heart  and  body,  from  the  consequences  of  what  happened 
there,  might  have  been  apt,  to  the  last,  to  take  her  deep 
belief  in  facts  for  the  facts  themselves — her  conception  of 
truth  for  the  absolute  truth. 

In  some  of  the  notices  of  the  previous  editions  of  his 
work  it  is  assumed  that  I  derived  the  greater  part  of  my  in- 

history.  Has  made  some  progress  in  reading  French,  but  knows 
nothing  of  the  language  grammatically.  Left  February  14,  1825,  in 
ill-health,  and  died  May  16,  1825/ 

(Her  father's  account  of  her  is  : — '  She  exhibited  during  her  illness 
many  symptoms  of  a  heart  under  Divine  influence.  Died  of  decline.') 

'Elizabeth  Bronte,  age  9.  (Vaccinated.  Scarlet  fever,  whooping 
cough.)  Reads  little.  Writes  pretty  well.  Ciphers  none  (sic).  Works 
very  badly.  Knows  nothing  of  grammar,  geography,  history,  or  ac- 
complishments. Left  in  ill-health.  May  31,  1825.  Died  June  13, 
1825,  in  decline.' 

'Emily  Bronte.  Entered  November  25,  1824,  aged  5|.   Reads  very 
prettily,  and  works  a  little.   Left  June  1,  1825.   Subsequent  career.— 
Governess/ 
5 


GG 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


formation  with  regard  to  her  sojourn  at  Cowan  Bridge  from 
Charlotte  Bronte  herself.  I  never  heard  her  speak  of  the 
place  but  once,  and  that  was  on  the  second  day  of  my 
acquaintance  with  her.  A  little  child  on  that  occasion  ex- 
pressed some  reluctance  to  finish  eating  his  piece  of  bread 
at  dinner;  and  she,  stooping  down,  and  addressing  him  in 
a  low  voice,  told  him  how  thankful  she  would  have  been  at 
his  age  for  a  piece  of  bread  ;  and  when  we — though  I  am 
not  sure  if  I  myself  spoke — asked  her  some  question  as  to 
the  occasion  she  alluded  to,  she  replied  with  reserve  and 
hesitation,  evidently  shying  away  from  what  she  imagined 
might  lead  to  too  much  conversation  on  one  of  her  books. 
She  spoke  of  the  oat  cake  at  Cowan  Bridge  (the  clap-bread 
of  Westmoreland)  as  being  different  from  the  leaven-raised 
oat  cake  of  Yorkshire,  and  of  her  childish  distaste  for  it. 
Some  one  present  made  an  allusion  to  a  similar  childish 
dislike  in  the  true  tale  of  ^  the  terrible  knitters  o'  Dent,' 
given  in  Southey's  ^Commonplace  Book;^  and  she  smiled 
faintly,  but  said  that  the  mere  difference  in  food  was  not 
all :  that  the  food  itself  was  spoilt  by  the  dirty  careless- 
ness of  the  cook,  so  that  she  and  her  sisters  disliked  their 
meals  exceedingly ;  and  she  mentioned  her  relief  and  glad- 
ness when  the  doctor  condemned  the  meat,  and  spoke  of 
having  seen  him  spit  it  out.  These  are  all  the  details  I 
ever  heard  from  her.  She  so  avoided  particularising  that 
I  think  Mr.  Carus  Wilson's  name  never  passed  between  us. 

I  do  not  doubt  the  general  accuracy  of  my  informants — 
of  those  who  have  given,  and  solemnly  repeated,  the  de- 
tails that  follow — but  it  is  only  just  to  Miss  Bronte  to  say 
that  I  have  stated  above  pretty  nearly  all  that  I  ever  heard 
on  the  subject  from  her. 

A  clergyman,  living  near  Kirby  Lonsdale,  the  Reverend 
William  Carus  Wilson,^  was  the  prime  mover  in  the  estab- 

J  William  Carus  Wilson  (1792-1859)  lived  at  Casterton  Hall,  near 
Kirby  Lousdale.  Wrote  Sermons,  1825 ;  Life  of  Mrs.  Dawson,  1828  ; 
Youthful  Memoirs,  1828  ;  Plan  for  Building  Churches  and  Schools, 
1842 ;  Sermons,  1842 ;  Christ  Revealed,  1849 ;  Child's  First  Tales,  1849 ; 


COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 


67 


lishnient  of  this  school.  He  was  an  energetic  man,  spar- 
ing no  labour  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  ends.  He  saw 
that  it  was  an  extremely  difficult  task  for  clergymen  with 
limited  incomes  to  provide  for  the  education  of  their  chil- 
dren ;  and  he  devised  a  scheme,  by  which  a  certain  sum 
was  raised  annually  by  subscription,  to  complete  the 
amount  required  to  furnish  a  solid  and  sufficient  English 
education,  for  which  the  parents'  payment  of  a  year 
would  not  have  been  sufficient.  Indeed,  that  made  by  the 
parents  was  considered  to  be  exclusively  appropriated  to 
the  expenses  of  lodging  and  boarding,  and  the  education 
provided  for  by  the  subscriptions.  Twelve  trustees  were 
appointed;  Mr.  Wilson  being  not  only  a  trustee,  but  the 
treasurer  and  secretary;  in  fact,  taking  most  of  tlie  busi- 
ness arrangements  upon  himself;  a  responsibility  which 
appropriately  fell  to  him,  as  he  lived  nearer  the  school 
than  any  one  else  who  was  interested  in  it.  So  his  char- 
acter for  prudence  and  judgment  was  to  a  certain  degree 
implicated  in  the  success  or  failure  of  Cowan  Bridge 
School;  and  the  working  of  it  was  for  many  years  the 
great  object  and  interest  of  his  life.  But  he  was  appar- 
ently unacquainted  with  the  prime  element  in  good  admin- 
istration— seeking  out  thoroughly  competent  persons  to  fill 
each  department,  and  then  making  them  responsible  for, 
and  judging  them  by,  the  result,  without  perpetual  inter- 
ference with  the  details. 

So  great  was  the  amount  of  good  which  Mr.  Wilson  did, 
by  his  constant,  unwearied  superintendence,  that  I  cannot 
help  feeling  sorry  that,  in  his  old  age  and  declining  health, 
the  errors  which  he  was  believed  to  have  committed  should 
have  been  brought  up  against  him  in  a  form  which  received 
such  wonderful  force  from  the  touch  of  Miss  Bronte's 
great  genius.  No  doubt  whatever  can  be  entertained  of 
the  deep  interest  which  he  felt  in  the  success  of  the  school. 

Soldier's  Cry  from  India,  1858.  He  also  issued  two  serials,  the  Friend- 
ly Visitor  and  the  Children's  Friend.  He  was  buried  iu  Casterton 
Church. 


68  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


As  I  write  I  have  before  me  his  last  words  on  giving  np 
the  secretaryship  in  1850:  he  speaks  of  the  ^withdrawal, 
from  declining  health,  of  an  eye,  which,  at  all  events,  has 
loved  to  watch  over  the  school  with  an  honest  and  anxious 
interest;^ — and  again  he  adds  ^that  he  resigns,  therefore, 
with  a  desire  to  be  thankful  for  all  that  God  has  been 
pleased  to  accomplish  through  his  instrumentality  (the  in- 
firmities and  unworthiness  of  which  he  deeply  feels  and 
deplores). 

Cowan  Bridge  is  a  cluster  of  somse  six  or  seven  cottages, 
gathered  together  at  both  ends  of  a  bridge,  over  which  the 
highroad  from  Leeds  to  Kendal  crosses  a  little  stream, 
called  the  Leek.  This  highroad  is  nearly  disused  now; 
but  formerly,  when  the  buyers  from  the  West  Riding  man- 
ufacturing districts  had  frequent  occasion  to  go  up  into 
the  North  to  purchase  the  wool  of  the  Westmoreland  and 
Cumberland  farmers,  it  was  doubtless  much  travelled  ;  and 
perhaps  the  hamlet  of  Cowan  Bridge  had  a  more  prosperous 
look  than  it  bears  at  present.  It  is  prettily  situated ;  just 
where  the  Leek  fells  swoop  into  the  plain  ;  and  by  the 
course  of  the  beck  alder  trees  and  willows  and  hazel  bushes 
grow.  The  current  of  the  stream  is  interrupted  by  broken 
pieces  of  grey  rock ;  and  the  waters  flow  over  a  bed  of  large 
round  white  pebbles,  which  a  flood  heaves  up  and  moves  on 
either  side  out  of  its  impetuous  way  till  in  some  parts  they 
almost  form  a  wall.  By  the  side  of  the  little,  shallow, 
sparkling,  vigorous  Leek  run  long  pasture  fields,  of  the 
fine  short  grass  common  in  high  land  ;  for  though  Cowan 
Bridge  is  situated  on  a  plain,  it  is  a  plain  from  which  there 
is  many  a  fall  and  long  descent  before  you  and  the  Leek 
reach  the  valley  of  the  Lune.  I  can  hardly  understand  how 
the  school  there  came  to  be  so  unhealthy ;  the  air  all  round 
about  was  so  sweet  and  thyme-scented  when  I  visited  it 
last  summer.  But  at  this  day  every  one  knows  that  the 
site  of  a  building  intended  for  numbers  should  be  chosen 
with  far  greater  care  than  that  of  a  private  dwelling,  from 
the  tendency  to  illness,  both  infectious  and  otherwise, 


COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 


69 


produced  by  the  congregation  of  people  in  close  prox- 
imity. 

The  house  is  still  remaining  that  formed  part  of  that 
occupied  by  the  school.  It  is  a  long  bow-windowed  cottage, 
now  divided  into  two  dwellings.  It  stands  facing  the  Leek, 
between  which  and  it  intervenes  a  space,  about  seventy 
yards  deep,  that  was  once  the  school  garden.  This  original 
house  was  an  old  dwelling  of  the  Picard  family,  which  they 
had  inhabited  for  two  generations.  They  sold  it  for  school 
purposes,  and  an  additional  building  was  erected,  running  at 
right  angles  from  the  older  part.  This  new  part  was  devoted 
expressly  to  schoolrooms,  dormitories,  &c.  ;  and  after  the 
school  was  removed  to  Oasterton  it  was  used  for  a  bobbin 
mill  connected  with  the  stream,  where  wooden  reels  were 
made  out  of  the  alders  which  grow  profusely  in  such  ground 
as  that  surrounding  Cowan  Bridge.  This  mill  is.  now  de- 
stroyed. The  present  cottage  was,  at  the  time  of  which  I 
write,  occupied  by  the  teachers^  rooms,  the  dining-room  and 
kitchens,  and  some  smaller  bedrooms.  On  going  into  this 
building  I  found  one  part,  that  nearest  to  the  highroad, 
converted  into  a  poor  kind  of  public-house,  then  to  let,  and 
having  all  the  squalid  appearance  of  a  deserted  place,  which 
rendered  it  difficult  to  judge  what  it  would  look  like  when 
neatly  kept  up,  the  broken  panes  replaced  in  the  windows, 
and  the  rough-cast  (now  cracked  and  discoloured)  made 
white  and  whole.  The  other  end  forms  a  cottage,  with  the 
low  ceilings  and  stone  floors  of  a  hundred  years  ago ;  the 
windows  do  not  open  freely  and  widely ;  and  the  passage 
upstairs,  leading  to  the  bedrooms,  is  narrow  and  tortuous : 
altogether,  smells  would  linger  about  the  house,  and  damp 
cling  to  it.  But  sanitary  matters  were  little  understood 
thirty  years  ago ;  and  it  was  a  great  thing  to  get  a  roomy 
building  close  to  the  highroad,  and  not  too  far  from  the 
habitation  of  Mr.  Wilson,  the  originator  of  the  educational 
scheme.  There  was  much  need  of  such  an  institution ; 
numbers  of  ill-paid  clergymen  hailed  the  prospect  with  joy, 
and  eagerly  put  down  the  names  of  their  children  as  pupils 


70 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


when  the  establishment  should  be  ready  to  receive  them. 
Mr.  Wilson  was^  no  doubt,  pleased  by  the  impatience  with 
which  the  realisation  of  his  idea  was  anticipated,  and  opened 
the  school  with  less  than  a  hundred  pounds  in  hand,  and 
with  pupils  the  number  of  whom  varies  according  to  different 
accounts,  Mr.  W.  W.  Oarus  Wilson,  the  son  of  the  founder, 
giving  it  as  seventy,  while  Mr.  Shepheard,  the  son-in-law, 
states  it  to  have  been  only  sixteen. 

Mr.  Wilson  felt,  most  probably,  that  the  responsibility  of 
the  whole  plan  rested  upon  him.  The  payment  made  by 
the  parents  was  barely  enough  for  food  and  lodging;  the 
subscriptions  did  not  flow  very  freely  into  an  untried  scheme; 
and  great  economy  was  necessary  in  all  the  domestic  ar- 
rangements. He  determined  to  enforce  this  by  frequent 
personal  inspection,  carried,  perhaps,  to  an  unnecessary 
extent,  and  leading  occasionally  to  a  meddling  with  little 
matters,  which  had  sometimes  the  effect  of  producing  ir- 
ritation of  feeling.  Yet,  although  there  was  economy  in 
providing  for  the  household,  there  does  not  appear  to  have 
been  any  parsimony.  The  meat,  flour,  milk,  &c.,  were 
contracted  for,  but  were  of  very  fair  quality ;  and  the  di- 
etary, which  has  been  shown  to  me  in  manuscript,  was 
neither  bad  nor  unwholesome ;  nor,  on  the  whole,  was  it 
wanting  in  variety.  Oatmeal  porridge  for  breakfast;  a 
piece  of  oat  cake  for  those  who  required  luncheon;  baked 
and  boiled  beef,  and  mutton,  potato  pie,  and  plain  homely 
puddings  of  different  kinds  for  dinner.  At  five  o^clock, 
bread  and  milk  for  the  younger  ones  ;  and  one  piece  of 
bread  (this  was  the  only  time  at  which  the  food  was  lim- 
ited) for  the  elder  pupils,  who  sat  up  till  a  later  meal  of 
the  same  description. 

Mr.  Wilson  himself  ordered  in  the  food,  and  was  anxious 
that  it  should  be  of  good  quality.  But  the  cook,  who  had 
much  of  his  confidence,  and  against  whom  for  a  long  time 
no  one  durst  utter  a  complaint,  was  careless,  dirty,  and 
wasteful.  To  some  children  oatmeal  porridge  is  distaste- 
ful, and  consequently  unwholesome,  even  when  properly 


COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 


71 


made  ;  at  Cowan  Bridge  School  it  was  too  often  sent  up, 
not  merely  burnt,  but  with  offensive  fragments  of  other 
substances  discoverable  in  it.  The  beef,  that  should  have 
been  carefully  salted  before  it  was  dressed,  had  often  be- 
come tainted  from  neglect;  and  girls,  who  were  school- 
fellows with  the  Brontes  during  the  reign  of  the  cook  of 
whom  I  am  speaking,  tell  me  that  the  house  seemed  to  be 
pervaded,  morning,  noon,  g,nd  night,  by  the  odour  of  ran- 
cid fat  that  steamed  out  of  the  oven  in  which  much  of 
their  food  was  prepared.  There  was  the  same  carelessness 
in  making  the  puddings;  one  of  those  ordered  was  rice 
boiled  in  water,  and  eaten  with  a  sauce  of  treacle  or  sugar  ; 
but  it  was  often  uneatable,  because  the  water  had  been 
taken  out  of  the  rain  tub,  and  was  strongly  impregnated 
with  the  dust  lodging  on  the  roof,  -whence  it  had  trickled 
down  into  the  old  wooden  cask,  which  also  added  its  own 
flavour  to  that  of  the  original  rain  water.  The  milk,  too, 
was  often  ^  bingy,^  to  use  a  country  expression  for  a  kind 
of  taint  that  is  far  worse  than  sourness,  and  suggests  the 
idea  that  is  caused  by  w^ant  of  cleanliness  about  the  milk 
pans,  rather  than  by  the  heat  of  the  weather.  On  Satur- 
days a  kind  of  pie,  or  mixture  of  potatoes  and  meat,  was 
served  up,  which  was  made  of  all  the  fragments  accumu- 
lated during  the  week.  Scraps  of  meat,  from  a  dirty  and 
disorderly  larder,  could  never  be  very  appetising;  and  I 
believe  that  this  dinner  was  more  loathed  than  any  in  the 
early  days  of  Cowan  Bridge  School.  One  may  fancy  how 
repulsive  such  fare  would  be  to  children  whose  appetites 
were  small,  and  who  had  been  accustomed  to  food,  far  sim- 
pler perhaps,  but  prepared  with  a  delicate  cleanliness  that 
made  it  both  tempting  and  wholesome.  At  many  a  meal 
the  little  Brontes  went  without  food,  although  craving 
with  hunger.  They  were  not  strong  when  they  came,  hav- 
ing only  just  recovered  from  a  complication  of  measles 
and  hooping-cough.  Indeed,  I  suspect  they  had  scarcely 
recovered  ;  for  there  was  some  consultation  on  the  part  of 
the  school  authorities  whether  Maria  and  Elizabeth  should 


72  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


be  received  or  not,  in  July  1824.  Mr.  Bronte  came  again 
in  the  September  of  that  year,  bringing  with  him  Charlotte 
and  Emily  to  be  admitted  as  pupils. 

It  appears  strange  that  Mr.  Wilson  should  not  have  been 
informed  by  the  teachers  of  the  way  in  which  the  food  was 
served  up  ;  but  we  must  remember  that  the  cook  had  been 
known  for  some  time  to  the  Wilson  family,  while  the 
teachers  were  brought  together  for  an  entirely  different 
work — that  of  education.  They  were  expressly  given  to 
understand  that  such  was  their  department ;  the  buying 
in  and  management  of  the  provisions  rested  with  Mr.  Wil- 
son and  the  cook.  The  teachers  would,  of  course,  be  un- 
willing to  lay  any  complaints  on  the  subject  before  him. 

There  was  another  trial  of  health  common  to  all  the  girls. 
The  path  from  Cowan  Bridge  to  Tunstall  Church,  where 
Mr.  Wilson  preached,  and  where  they  all  attended  on  the 
Sunday,  is  more  than  two  miles  in  length,  and  goes  sweep- 
ing along  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  unsheltered  country,  in  a 
way  to  make  it  a  fresh  and  exhilarating  walk  in  summer, 
but  a  bitterly  cold  one  in  winter,  especially  to  children  like 
the  delicate  little  Brontes,  whose  thin  blood  flowed  languid- 
ly in  consequence  of  their  feeble  appetites  rejecting  the 
food  prepared  for  them,  and  thus  inducing  a  half-starved 
condition.  The  church  was  not  warmed,  there  being  no 
means  for  this  purpose.  It  stands  in  the  midst  of  fields, 
and  the  damp  mist  must  have  gathered  round  the  walls,  and 
crept  in  at  the  windows.  The  girls  took  their  cold  dinner 
with  them,  and  ate  it  between  the  services,  in  a  chamber 
over  the  entrance,  opening  out  of  the  former  galleries.  The 
arrangements  for  this  day  were  peculiarly  trying  to  delicate 
children,  particularly  to  those  who  were  spiritless  and  long- 
ing for  home,  as  poor  Maria  Bronte  must  have  been ;  for 
her  ill  health  was  increasing,  and  the  old  cough,  the 
remains  of  the  hooping-cough,  lingered  about  her. 

She  was  far  superior  in  mind  to  any  of  her  playfellows 
and  companions,  and  was  lonely  amongst  them  from  that 
very  cause ;  and  yet  she  had  faults  so  annoying  that  she 


COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 


73 


was  in  constant  disgrace  with  her  teachers,  and  an  object 
of  merciless  dislike  to  one  of  them,  who  is  depicted  as  ^Miss 
Scatcherd  ^  in  ^  Jane  Eyre/  and  whose  real  name  I  will  be 
merciful  enough  not  to  disclose.  I  need  hardly  say  that 
Helen  Burns  is  as  exact  a  transcript  of  Maria  Bronte  as 
Charlotte's  wonderful  power  of  reproducing  character  could 
give.  Her  heart,  to  the  latest  day  on  which  we  met,  still 
beat  with  unavailing  indignation  at  the  worrying  and  the 
cruelty  to  which  her  gentle,  patient,  dying  sister  had  been 
subjected  by  this  v^oman.  Not  a  word  of  that  part  of  ^  Jane 
Eyre '  but  is  a  literal  repetition  of  scenes  between  the  pupil 
and  the  teacher.  Those  who  had  been  pupils  at  the  same 
time  knew  who  must  have  written  the  book  from  the  force 
with  which  Helen  Burns's  sufferings  are  described.  They 
had,  before  that,  recognised  the  description  of  the  sweet 
dignity  and  benevolence  of  Miss  Temple  as  only  a  just 
tribute  to  the  merits  of  one  whom  all  that  knew  her  appear 
to  hold  in  honour ;  but  when  Miss  Scatcherd  was  held  up 
to  opprobrium  they  also  recognised  in  the  writer  of  ^  Jane 
Eyre'  an  unconsciously  avenging  sister  of  the  sufferer. 

One  of  their  fellow  pupils,  among  other  statements  even 
worse,  gives  me  the  following :  The  dormitory  in  which 
Maria  slept  was  a  long  room,  holding  a  row  of  narrow  little 
beds  on  each  side,  occupied  by  the  pupils;  and  at  the  end 
of  this  dormitory  there  was  a  small  bedchamber  opening 
out  of  it,  appropriated  to  the  use  of  Miss  Scatcherd.  Maria's 
bed  stood  nearest  to  the  door  of  this  room.  One  morning, 
after  she  had  become  so  seriously  unwell  as  to  have  had  a 
blister  applied  to  her  side  (the  sore  from  which  was  not 
perfectly  healed),  when  the  getting-up  bell  was  heard,  poor 
Maria  moaned  out  that  she  was  so  ill,  so  very  ill,  she  wished 
she  might  stop  in  bed  ;  and  some  of  the  girls  urged  her  to 
do  so,  and  said  they  would  explain  it  all  to  Miss  Temple, 
the  superintendent.  But  Miss  Scatcherd  was  close  at  hand, 
and  her  anger  would  have  to  be  faced  before  Miss  Temple's 
kind  thoughtfulness  could  interfere  ;  so  the  sick  child  be- 
gan to  dress,  shivering  with  cold,  as,  without  leaving  her 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


bed^  she  slowly  put  on  her  black  worsted  stockings  over  her 
thin  white  legs  (my  informant  spoke  as  if  she  saw  it  yet, 
and  her  whole  face  flushed  out  undying  indignation).  Just 
then  Miss  Scatcherd  issued  from  her  room,  and,  without 
asking  for  a  word  of  explanation  from  the  sick  and  fright- 
ened girl,  she  took  her  by  the  arm,  on  the  side  to  which  the 
blister  had  been  applied,  and  by  one  vigorous  movement 
whirled  her  out  into  the  middle  of  the  floor,  abusing  her 
all  the  time  for  dirty  and  untidy  habits.  There  she  left 
her.  My  informant  says  Maria  hardly  spoke,  except  to  beg 
some  of  the  more  indignant  girls  to  be  calm ;  but,  in  slow, 
trembling  movements,  with  many  a  pause,  she  went  down- 
stairs at  last — and  was  punished  for  being  late. 

Any  one  may  fancy  how  such  an  event  as  this  would 
rankle  in  Charlotte's  mind.  I  only  wonder  that  she  did  not 
remonstrate  against  her  father's  decision  to  send  her  and 
Emily  back  to  Cowan  Bridge  after  Maria's  and  Elizabeth's 
deaths.  But  frequently  children  are  unconscious  of  the 
effect  which  some  of  their  simple  revelations  would  have  in 
altering  the  opinions  entertained  by  their  friends  of  the 
persons  placed  around  them.  Besides,  Charlotte's  ear- 
nest, vigorous  mind  saw,  at  an  unusually  early  age,  the 
immense  importance  of  education,  as  furnishing  her  with 
tools  which  she  had  the  strength  and  the  will  to  wield, 
and  she  would  be  aware  that  the  Cowan  Bridge  education 
was,  in  many  points,  the  best  that  her  father  could  provide 
for  her. 

Before  Maria  Bronte's  death  that  low  fever  broke  out,  in 
the  spring  of  1825,  which  is  spoken  of  in  ^  Jane  Eyre.'  Mr. 
Wilson  was  extremely  alarmed  at  the  first  symptoms  of  this. 
He  went  to  a  kind  motherly  woman,  who  had  had  some 
connection  with  the  school — as  laundress,  I  believe — and 
asked  her  to  come  and  tell  him  what  was  the  matter  with 
them.  She  made  herself  ready,  and  drove  with  him  in  his 
gig.  When  she  entered  the  schoolroom  she  saw  from 
twelve  to  fifteen  girls  lying  about ;  some  resting  their  ach-J 
ing  heads  on  the  table,  others  on  the  ground  ;  all  heavyJ 


COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 


75 


eyed,  flushed,  indifferent,  and  weary,  with  pains  in  every 
limb.  Some  peculiar  odour,  she  says,  made  her  recognise 
that  they  were  sickening  for  ^  the  fever and  she  told  Mr. 
Wilson  so,  and  that  she  could  not  stay  there  for  fear  of 
conveying  the  infection  to  her  own  children  ;  but  he  half 
commanded  and  half  entreated  her  to  remain  and  nurse 
them ;  and  finally  mounted  his  gig  and  drove  away,  while 
she  was  still  urging  that  she  must  return  to  her  own  house, 
and  to  her  domestic  duties,  for  which  she  had  provided  no 
substitute.  However,  when  she  was  left  in  this  uncere- 
monious manner,  she  determined  to  make  the  best  of  it ; 
and  a  most  efficient  nurse  she  proved  :  although,  as  she 
says,  it  was  a  dreary  time. 

Mr.  Wilson  supplied  everything  ordered  by  the  doctors, 
of  the  best  quality  and  in  the  most  liberal  manner ;  the  in- 
valids were  attended  by  Dr.  Batty,  a  very  clever  surgeon 
in  Kirby,  who  had  had  the  medical  superintendence  of  the 
establishment  from  the  beginning,  and  who  afterwards  be- 
came Mr.  Wilson^s  brother-in-law.  I  have  heard  from  two 
witnesses  besides  Charlotte  Bronte  that  Dr.  Batty  con- 
demned the  preparation  of  the  food  by  the  expressive  ac- 
tion of  spitting  out  a  portion  of  it.  He  himself,  it  is  but 
fair  to  say,  does  not  remember  this  circumstance,  nor  does 
he  speak  of  the  fever  itself  as  either  alarming  or  danger- 
ous. About  forty  of  the  girls  suffered  from  this,  but  none 
of  them  died  at  Cowan  Bridge ;  though  one  died  at  her 
own  home,  sinking  under  the  state  of  health  which  fol- 
lowed it.  None  of  the  Brontes  had  the  fever.  But  the 
same  causes,  which  affected  the  health  of  the  other  pupils 
through  typhus,  told  more  slowly,  but  not  less  surely, 
upon  their  constitutions.  The  principal  of  these  causes 
was  the  food. 

The  bad  management  of  the  cook  was  chiefly  to  be 
blamed  for  this  ;  she  was  dismissed,  and  the  woman  who 
had  been  forced  against  her  will  to  serve  as  head  nurse 
took  the  place  of  housekeeper  ;  and  henceforward  the  food 
was  so  well  prepared  that  no  one  could  ever  reasonably 


76 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


complain  of  it.  Of  course  it  cannot  be  expected  that  a 
new  institution,  comprising  domestic  and  educational  ar- 
rangements for  nearly  a  hundred  persons,  should  work 
quite  smoothly  at  the  beginning. 

All  this  occurred  during  the  first  two  years  of  the  es- 
tablishment, and  in  estimating  its  effect  upon  the  charac- 
ter of  Charlotte  Bronte  we  must  remember  that  she  was  a 
sensitive,  thoughtful  child,  capable  of  reflecting  deeply,  if 
not  of  analysing  truly ;  and  peculiarly  susceptible,  as  are  all 
delicate  and  sickly  children,  to  painful  impressions.  What 
the  healthy  suffer  from  but  momentarily,  and  then  forget, 
those  who  are  ailing  brood  over  involuntarily  and  remember 
long — perhaps  with  no  resentment,  but  simply  as  a  piece  of 
suffering  that  has  been  stamped  into  their  very  life.  The 
pictures,  ideas,  and  conceptions  of  character  received  into 
the  mind  of  the  child  of  eight  years  old,  were  destined  to  be 
reproduced  in  fiery  words  a  quarter  of  a  century  afterwards. 
She  saw  but  one  side  of  Mr.  Wilson^s  character;  and  many 
of  those  who  knew  him  at  that  time  assure  me  of  the  fidel- 
ity with  which  this  is  represented,  while  at  the  same  time 
they  regret  that  the  delineation  should  have  obliterated, 
as  it  were,  nearly  all  that  was  noble  or  conscientious.  And 
that  there  were  grand  and  fine  qualities  in  Mr.  Wilson  I  have 
received  abundant  evidence.  Indeed,  for  several  weeks  past 
I  have  received  letters  almost  daily,  bearing  on  the  sub- 
ject of  this  chapter ;  some  vague,  some  definite ;  many 
full  of  love  and  admiration  for  Mr.  Wilson,  some  as  full 
of  dislike  and  indignation ;  few  containing  positive  facts. 
After  giving  careful  consideration  to  this  mass  of  conflict- 
ing evidence,  I  have  made  such  alterations  and  omissions 
in  this  chapter  as  seem  to  me  to  be  required.  It  is  but  just 
to  state  that  the  major  part  of  the  testimony  with  which  I 
have  been  favoured  from  old  pupils  is  in  high  praise  of  Mr. 
Wilson.  Among  the  letters  that  I  have  read  there  is  one 
whose  evidence  ought  to  be  highly  respected.  It  is  from 
the  husband  of  '  Miss  Temple.'  She  died  in  1856,  but  he, 
a  clergyman,  thus  wrote  in  reply  to  a  letter  addressed  to 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS 


77 


him  on  the  subject  by  one  of  Mr.  Wilson^s  friends :  ^  Often 
have  I  heard  my  late  dear  wife  speak  of  her  sojourn  at 
Cowan  Bridge  ;  always  in  terms  of  admiration  of  Mr.  Carus 
Wilson,  his  parental  love  to  his  pupils,  and  their  love  for 
him ;  of  the  food  and  general  treatment,  in  terms  of  ap- 
proval. I  have  heard  her  allude  to  an  unfortunate  cook, 
who  used  at  times  to  spoil  the  porridge,  but  who,  she  said, 
was  soon  dismissed.^ 

The  recollections  left  of  the  four  Bronte  sisters  at  this 
period  of  their  lives,  on  the  minds  of  those  who  associated 
with  them,  are  not  very  distinct.  Wild,  strong  hearts  and 
powerful  minds  were  hidden  under  an  enforced  propriety 
and  regularity  of  demeanour  and  expression,  just  as  their 
faces  had  been  concealed  by  their  father  under  his  stiff,  un- 
changing mask.  Maria  was  delicate,  unusually  clever  and 
thoughtful  for  her  age,  gentle,  and  untidy.  Of  her  fre- 
quent disgrace  from  this  last  fault — of  her  sufferings,  so 
patiently  borne — I  have  already  spoken.  The  only  glimpse 
we  get  of  Elizabeth,  through  the  few  years  of  her  short  life, 
is  contained  in  a  letter  which  I  have  received  from  '  Miss 
Temple.^  ^The  second,  Elizabeth,  is  the  only  one  of  the 
family  of  whom  I  have  a  vivid  recollection,  from  her  meet- 
ing with  a  somewhat  alarming  accident,  in  consequence  of 
which  I  had  her  for  some  days  and  nights  in  my  bedroom, 
not  only  for  the  sake  of  greater  quiet,  but  that  I  might 
watch  over  her  myself.  Her  head  was  severely  cut,  but  she 
bore  all  the  consequent  suffering  with  exemplary  patience, 
and  by  it  won  much  upon  my  esteem.  Of  the  two  younger 
ones  (if  two  there  were)  I  have  very  slight  recollections, 
save  that  one,  a  darling  child,  under  five  years  of  age,  was 
quite  the  pet  nurseling  of  the  school.^  This  last  would  be 
Emily.  Charlotte  was  considered  the  most  talkative  of  the 
sisters — a  ^  bright,  clever  little  child. ^  Her  great  friend  was 
a  certain  ^Mellany  Hane^  (so  Mr.  Bronte  spells  the  name), 
whose  brother  paid  for  her  schooling,  and  who  had  no  re- 
markable talent  except  for  music,  which  her  brother^s  cir- 
cumstances forbade  her  to  cultivate.    She  was  ^  a  hungry. 


78 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


good-natured,  ordinary  girl older  than  Charlotte,  and 
ever  ready  to  protect  her  from  any  petty  tyranny  or  en- 
croachments on  the  part  of  the  elder  girls.  Charlotte  al- 
ways remembered  her  with  affection  and  gratitude. 

I  have  quoted  the  word  ^bright'  in  the  account  of  Cliar- 
lotte.  I  suspect  that  this  year  of  1825  was  the  last  time  it 
could  ever  be  applied  to  her.^  In  the  spring  of  it  Maria 
became  so  rapidly  worse  that  Mr.  Bronte  was  sent  for. 
He  had  not  previously  been  aware  of  her  illness,  and  the 
condition  in  which  he  found  her  was  a  terrible  shock  to 
him.  He  took  her  home  in  the  Leeds  coach,  the  girls 
crowding  out  into  the  road  to  follow  her  with  their  eyes 
over  the  bridge,  past  the  cottages,  and  then  out  of  sight 
for  ever.  She  died  a  very  few  days  after  her  arrival  at 
home.  Perhaps  the  news  of  her  death  falling  suddenly 
into  the  life  of  which  her  patient  existence  had  formed  a 
part,  only  a  little  week  or  so  before,  made  those  who  re- 
mained at  Cowan  Bridge  look  with  more  anxiety  on  Eliza- 

Tliis  suggestion  that  all  *  brightness '  went  out  of  Charlotte  Bronte's 
life  thus  early  is  one  that  has  been  vigorously  disputed.  Mr.  (now  Sir) 
Weinyss  Reid  (Charlotte  Bronte :  a  Monograph)  brought  together,  in 
.1877 — twenty  years  after  Mrs.  Gaskell  had  written — a  number  of  de- 
tails and  fragments  of  at  that  rime  unpublished  correspondence,  in 
order  to  demonstrate  that  Mrs.  Gaskell  had  pitched  her  work  in  too 
sombre  a  key.  *  If  the  truth  must  be  told,'  said  Mr.  Reid,  *  the  life  of 
the  author  of  Jane  Eyre  was  by  no  means  so  joyless  as  the  world  now 
believes  it  to  have  been.  .  .  .  On  the  contrary,  her  letters  show  that, 
at  any  rate  up  to  the  time  of  her  leaving  for  Brussels,  she  was  a  happy 
and  high-spirited  girl,  that  even  to  the  very  last  she  had  the  faculty  of 
overcoming  her  sorrows  by  means  of  that  steadfast  courage  which 
was  her  most  precious  possession.'  Sir  Wemyss  Reid,  by  judiciously 
quoting  certain  passages  omitted  by  Mrs.  Gaskell  from  the  correspon- 
dence, may  be  said  to  have  proved  his  case,  or  rather  to  have  effectively 
presented  the  other  side  of  the  shield.  To  understand  Charlotte  Bronte 
on  that  side  is  to  understand  her  inheritance  from  her  father  of  a  dis- 
tinctly Celtic  temperament — the  temperament  of  alternate  high  spirits 
and  boundless  exhilaration  followed  by  long  periods  of  depression  and 
melancholy.  Charlotte  Broute5  was  a  woman  of  moods  that  many  a 
placid  Englishwoman  would  have  found  unaccountable. 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS 


79 


beth's  symptoms,  which  also  turned  out  to  be  consumptive. 
She  was  sent  home  in  charge  of  a  confidential  servant  of 
the  establishment ;  and  she,  too,  died  in  the  early  sum- 
mer of  that  year.  Charlotte  was  thus  suddenly  called  into 
the  responsibilities  of  eldest  sister  in  a  motherless  family. 
She  remembered  how  anxiously  her  dear  sister  Maria  had 
striven,  in  her  grave,  earnest  way,  to  be  a  tender  helper 
and  a  counsellor  to  them  all;  and  the  duties  that  now  fell 
upon  her  seemed  almost  like  a  legacy  from  the  gentle  little 
suflEerer  so  lately  dead. 

Both  Charlotte  and  Emily  returned  to  school  after  the 
midsummer  holidays  in  this  fatal  year.  But  before  the 
next  winter  it  was  thought  desirable  to  advise  their  re- 
moval, as  it  was  evident  that  the  damp  situation  of  the 
house  at  Cowan  Bridge  did  not  suit  their  health.^ 

^  With  regard  to  my  own  opinion  of  the  present  school,  I  can  only 
give  it  as  formed  after  what  was  merely  a  cursory  and  superficial  in- 
spection, as  I  do  not  believe  that  I  was  in  the  house  above  half  an 
hour;  but  it  was  and  is  this:  that  the  house  at  Casterton  seemed 
thoroughly  healthy  and  well  kept,  and  is  situated  in  a  lovely  spot; 
that  I  he  pupils  looked  bright,  happy,  and  well,  and  that  the  lady  su- 
perintendent was  a  most  prepossessing-looking  person,  who,  on  my 
making  some  inquiry  as  to  the  accomplishments  taught  to  the  pupils, 
said  that  the  scheme  of  education  was  materially  changed  since  the 
school  had  been  opened.  1  would  have  inserted  this  testimony  in  the 
first  edition,  had  I  believed  that  any  weight  could  be  attached  to  an 
opinion  formed  on  such  slight  and  superficial  grounds. — Note  hy  Mrs. 
Gdskell. 

There  was  much  controversy  respecting  Mrs.  Gaskell's  identification 
of  Cowan  Bridge  with  the  Lowood  of  Jane  Eyre.  The  matter  was 
discussed  at  infinite  length  in  the  Yorkshire  papers,  even  Mr.  A.  B. 
Nicholls,  Charlotte  Bronte's  husband,  contributing  two  letters  to  the 
Halifax  Guardian  in  defence  of  his  wife's  general  accuracy.  A 
pamphlet  was  also  published  with  the  following  title-page: — 

A  Vindication  of  the  Clergy  Daughters'  School  and  the  Rev.  W.  Garus 
Wilson  from  the  Remarks  in  *  The  Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte,'^  hy  the 
Rev.  n.  S hepheard,  M.  A.   London :  8eeley,  Jackson,  and  Halliday,  1857. 

This  pamphlet  contained  the  following  letter  from  'A.  H.,'  who 
was  a  teacher  at  Cowan  Bridge  during  the  time  of  the  residence  of 
the  little  Brontes  there  : — 


80 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


'  In  July  1824  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bronte  arrived  at  Cowan  Bridge  with 
two  of  his  daughters,  Maria  and  Elizabeth,  12  and  10  years  of  age. 
The  children  were  delicate  ;  both  had  but  recently  recovered  from  the 
measles  and  hooping-cough — so  recently,  indeed,  that  doubts  were  en- 
tertained whether  they  could  be  admitted  with  safety  to  the  other 
pupils.  They  were  received,  however,  and  went  on  so  well  that  in 
September  their  father  returned,  bringing  with  him  two  more  of  his 
children— Charlotte,  9  [she  was  really  but  8],  and  Emily,  6  years  of 
age.  During  both  these  visits  Mr.  Bronte  lodged  at  the  school,  sat  at 
the  same  table  with  the  children,  saw  the  whole  routine  of  the  estab- 
lishment, and,  so  far  as  I  have  ever  known,  was  satisfied  with  every- 
thing that  came  under  his  observation. 

*  "  TJw  two  younger  children  enjoyed  uniformly  good  health.''  Char- 
lotte was  a  general  favourite.  To  the  best  of  my  recollection  she  was 
never  under  disgrace,  however  slight ;  punishment  she  certainly  did 
not  experience  while  she  was  at  Cowan  Bridge. 

*In  size  Charlotte  was  remarkably  diminutive  ;  and  if,  as  has  been 
recently  asserted,  she  never  grew  an  inch  after  leaving  the  Clergy 
Daughters'  School,  she  must  have  been  a  literal  dwarf,  and  could  not 
have  obtained  a  situation  as  teacher  in  a  school  at  Brussels,  or  any- 
where else  ;  the  idea  is  absurd.  In  respect  of  the  treatment  of  the 
pupils  at  Cowan  Bridge,  I  will  say  that  neither  Mr.  Bronte's  daughters 
nor  any  other  of  the  children  were  denied  a  sufficient  quantity  of  food. 
Any  statement  to  the  contrary  is  entirely  false.  The  daily  dinner  con- 
sisted of  meat,  vegetables,  and  pudding,  in  abundance  ;  the  children 
were  permitted,  and  expected,  to  ask  for  whatever  they  desired,  and 
were  never  limited. 

'  It  has  been  remarked  that  the  food  of  the  school  was  such  that 
none  but  starving  children  could  eat  it ;  and  in  support  of  this  state- 
ment reference  is  made  to  a  certain  occasion  when  the  medical  attend- 
ant was  consulted  about  it.  In  reply  to  this  let  me  say  that  during 
the  spring  of  1825  a  low  fever,  although  not  an  alarming  one,  prevail- 
ed in  the  school,  and  the  managers,  naturally  anxious  to  ascertain 
whether  any  local  cause  occasioned  the  epidemic,  took  an  opportunity 
to  ask  the  physician's  opinion  of  the  food  that  happened  to  be  then 
on  the  table.  I  recollect  that  he  spoke  rather  scornfully  of  a  baked 
rice  pudding;  but  as  the  ingredients  of  this  dish  were  chiefly  rice, 
sugar,  and  milk,  its  effects  could  hardly  have  been  so  serious  as  has 
been  affirmed.  I  thus  furnish  you  with  the  simple  fact  from  which 
those  statements  have  been  manufactured. 

*  I  have  not  the  least  hesitation  in  saying  that,  upon  the  whole,  the 
comforts  were  as  many  and  the  privations  as  few  at  Cowan  Bridge  as 
can  well  be  found  in  so  large  an  establishment.  How  far  young  or  deli- 
cate children  are  able  to  contend  with  the  necessary  evils  of  a  public 


COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 


81 


school  is,  in  my  opinion,  a  very  grave  question,  and  does  not  enter 
into  the  present  discussion. 

*  The  younger  children  in  all  larger  institutions  are  liable  to  be  op- 
pressed ;  but  the  exposure  to  this  evil  at  Cowan  Bridge  was  not  more 
than  in  other  schools,  but,  as  I  believe,  far  less.  Then,  again,  thought- 
less servants  will  occasionally  spoil  food,  even  in  private  families ; 
and  in  public  schools  they  are  likely  to  be  still  less  particular,  unless 
they  are  well  looked  after. ' 

A  book  published  by  Mr.  Carus  Wilson  in  1831,  six  years  after  the 
little  Brontes  had  left  the  school,  serves  to  throw  an  interesting  light 
on  the  retentiveness  of  Charlotte  Bronte's  memory  of  the  place  and 
of  her  capacity  for  making  every  detail  serve.    The  book  is  entitled  :— 

Memoir  of  a  Beloved  and  Long  Afflicted  Sister,  by  William  Carus 
Wilson,  M.  A.,  Rector  of  Whittington  and  Chaplain  to  his  Royal  High- 
ness the  Duke  of  Suffolk.  Kirkhy  Lonsdale :  Printed  and  sold  by  A. 
Foster.    Sold  in  London  by  L.  B.  Seeley  and  Sons.  1831. 

Here  we  have,  day  by  day,  the  trivial  diary  of  an  invalid  woman, 
and  we  learn,  incidentally,  that  one  of  her  brothers  bore  the  name  of 
Edward,  and  that  in  1824,  during  the  Bronte  sojourn  at  Cowan  Bridge, 
he  became  engaged  and  married  to  a  *  Jane  As  there  are  no  Ed- 
wards and  Janes  mentioned  in  Charlotte  Bronte's  correspondence,  it 
is  fair  to  suppose  that  the  hint  for  the  Christian  names  of  her  hero  and 
heroine  in  Jane  Eyre  was  derived  from  this  early  memory.  There 
is  also  a  Mrs.  Reade  mentioned  in  the  diary,  probably  a  further  sugges- 
tion. There  are  many  prayerful  references  to  the  inquiry  into  the 
school  management,  and  his  sister  hopes  that  *dear  William'  may 
•  speak  in  such  a  manner  as  may  confound  his  enemies  and  redound 
to  the  glory  of  God.' 


CHAPTER  V 


For  the  reason  just  stated^  the  little  girls  were  sent  home 
in  the  autumn  of  1825^  when  Charlotte  was  little  more 
than  nine  years  old. 

About  this  time  an  elderly  woman  of  the  village  came  to 
live  as  servant  at  the  parsonage.  She  remained  there,  as 
a  member  of  the  household,  for  thirty  years ;  and  from  the 
length  of  her  faithful  service,  and  the  attachment  and  re- 
spect which  she  inspired,  is  deserving  of  mention.  Tabby 
was  a  thorough  specimen  of  a  Yorkshire  woman  of  her 
class,  in  dialect,  in  appearance,  and  in  character.  She 
abounded  in  strong  practical  sense  and  shrewdness.  Her 
words  were  far  from  flattery ;  but  she  would  spare  no  deeds 
in  the  cause  of  those  whom  she  kindly  regarded.  She 
ruled  the  children  pretty  sharply;  and  yet  never  grudged 
a  little  extra  trouble  to  provide  them  with  such  small  treats 
as  came  within  her  power.  In  return,  she  claimed  to  be 
looked  upon  as  a  humble  friend;  and,  many  years  later, 
Miss  Bronte  told  me  that  she  found  it  somewhat  difficult 
to  manage,  as  Tabby  expected  to  be  informed  of  all  the 
family  concerns,  and  yet  had  grown  so  deaf  that  what  was 
repeated  to  her  became  known  to  whoever  might  be  in  or 
about  the  house.  To  obviate  this  publication  of  what  it 
might  be  desirable  to  keep  secret,  Miss  Bronte  used  to  take 
her  out  for  a  walk  on  the  solitary  moors,  where,  when 
both  were  seated  on  a  tuft  of  heather,  in  some  high  lonely 
place,  she  could  acquaint  the  old  woman,  at  leisure,  with 
all  that  she  wanted  to  hear. 

Tabby  had  lived  in  Haworth  in  the  days  when  the  pack- 
horses  went  through  once  a  week,  with  their  tinkling  bells 


1825 


THE  OLD  SERVANT  TABBY 


83 


and  gay  worsted  adornment,  carrying  the  produce  of  the 
country  from  Keighley  over  the  hills  to  Colne  and  Burnley. 
What  is  more,  she  had  known  the  '  bottom/  or  valley,  in 
those  primitive  days  when  the  fairies  frequented  the  margin 
of  the  'beck'  on  moonlight  nights,  and  had  known  folk 
who  had  seen  them.  But  that  was  when  there  were  no 
mills  in  the  valleys,  and  when  all  the  wool-spinning  was 
done  by  hand  in  the  farmhouses  round.  'It  wur  the  fac- 
tories as  had  driven  'em  away,'  she  said.  No  doubt  she 
had  many  a  tale  to  tell  of  bygone  days  of  the  country-side ; 
old  ways  of  living,  former  inhabitants,  decayed  gentry,  who 
had  melted  away,  and  whose  places  knew  them  no  more ; 
family  tragedies  and  dark  superstitious  dooms ;  and  in  tell- 
ing these  things,  without  the  least  consciousness  that  there 
might  ever  be  anything  requiring  to  be  softened  down, 
would  give  at  full  length  the  bare  and  simple  details. 

Miss  Branwell  instructed  the  children  at  regular  hours 
in  all  she  could  teach,  converting  her  bedchamber  into  their 
schoolroom.  Their  father  was  in  the  habit  of  relating  to 
them  any  public  news  in  which  he  felt  an  interest ;  and  from 
the  opinions  of  his  strong  and  independent  mind  they 
would  gather  much  food  for  thought ;  but  I  do  not  know 
whether  he  gave  them  any  direct  instruction.  Charlotte's 
deep,  thoughtful  spirit  appears  to  have  felt  almost  painfully 
the  tender  responsibility  which  rested  upon  her  with  refer- 
ence to  her  remaining  sisters.  She  was  only  eighteen  months 
older  than  Emily  ;  but  Emily  and  Anne  were  simply  com- 
panions and  playmates,  while  Charlotte  was  motherly  friend 
and  guardian  to  both ;  and  this  loving  assumption  of  duties 
beyond  her  years  made  her  feel  considerably  older  than  she 
really  was. 

Patrick  Branwell,  their  only  brother,  was  a  boy  of  re- 
markable promise,  and,  in  some  ways,  of  extraordinary 
precocity  of  talent.  Mr.  Bronte's  friends  advised  him  to 
send  his  son  to  school ;  but,  remembering  both  the  strength 
of  will  of  his  own  youth  and  his  mode  of  employing  it,  he 
believed  that  Patrick  was  better  at  home,  and  that  he  him- 


84 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


self  could  teach  him  well,  as  he  had  tanght  others  before. 
So  Patrick — or,  as  his  family  called  him,  Branwell — re- 
mained at  Haworth,  working  hard  for  some  hours  a  day 
with  his  father  ;  but,  when  the  time  of  the  latter  was  taken 
up  with  his  parochial  duties,  the  boy  was  thrown  into 
chance  companionship  with  the  lads  *of  the  village — for 
youth  will  to  youth,  and  boys  will  to  boys. 

Still,  he  was  associated  in  many  of  his  sisters^  plays  and 
amusements.  These  were  mostly  of  a  sedentary  and  intel- 
lectual nature.  I  have  had  a  curious  packet  confided 
to  me,  containing  an  immense  amount  of  manuscript,  in  an 
inconceivably  small  space — tales,  dramas,  poems,  romances, 
written  principally  by  Charlotte,  in  a  hand  which  it  is  al- 
most impossible  to  decipher  without  the  aid  of  a  magnify- 
ing glass. 

Among  these  papers  there  is  a  list  of  her  works,  which  I 
copy,  as  a  curious  proof  how  early  the  rage  for  literary 
composition  had  seized  upon  her  : — 

^CATALOGUE  OF  MY  BOOKS,  WITH  THE  PERIOD  OF  THEIR 
COMPLETIOK,  UP  TO  AUGUST  3,  1830. 

^Two  romantic  tales  in  one  volume,  viz.  The  Twelve 
Adventurers  and  the  Adventures  in  Ireland,  April  2,  1829. 

^  The  Search  after  Happiness,  a  Tale,  August  1,  1829. 

'Leisure  Hours,  a  Tale,  and  two  Fragments,  July  6, 
1829. 

'  The  Adventures  of  Edward  de  Crack,  a  Tale,  Feb.  2, 
1830. 

'  The  Adventures  of  Ernest  Alembert,  a  Tale,  May  26, 
1830. 

'  An  interesting  Incident  in  the  Lives  of  some  of  the  most 
Eminent  Persons  of  the  Age,  a  Tale,  June  10,  1830. 

^  Tales  of  the  Islanders,  in  four  volumes.  Contents  of 
the  1st  Vol. : — 1.  An  Account  of  their  Origin ;  2.  A  De- 
scription of  Vision  Island;  3.  Ratten^s  Attempt;  4.  Lord 
Charles  Wellesley  and  the  Marquis  of  Douro's  Adventure ; 


FAC  SIMILE   OF  A  PAGE  OF  M  S 


UNlVthb.i  >  (ILINO/S 


JUVENILE  WORKS  IN  MANUSCRIPT 


85 


completed  June  31,  1829.  2nd  Vol. :— 1.  The  School  Rebel- 
lion ;  2.  The  Strange  Incident  in  the  Duke  of  Wellington's 
Life ;  3.  Tale  to  his  Sons ;  4.  The  Marquis  of  Douro  and 
Lord  Charles  Wellesley's  Tale  t'.o  his  Little  King  and 
Queen;  completed  Dec.  2,  1829.  3rd  Vol.  :— 1.  The  Duke 
of  Wellington's  Adventure  in  the  Cavern ;  2.  The  Duke 
of  Wellington  and  the  Little  King's  and  Queen's  Visit  to 
the  Horse  Guards ;  completed  May  8,  1830.  4th  Vol.  :— 
1.  The  Three  Old  Washerwomen  of  Strathfieldsaye  ;  2. 
Lord  C.  Wellesley's  Tale  to  his  Brother;  completed  July 
30,  1830. 

^  Characters  of  Great  Men  of  the  Present  Age,  Dec.  17, 
1829. 

^  The  Young  Men's  Magazines,  in  Six  Numbers,  from 
August  to  December,  the  latter  months  double  number ; 
completed  December  12,  1829.  General  Index  to-  their 
Contents  : — 1.  A  True  Story  ;  2.  Causes  of  the  War;  3.  A 
Song  ;  4.  Conversations  ;  5.  A  True  Story,  continued  ;  6. 
The  Spirit  of  Cawdor ;  7.  Interior  of  a  Pothouse,  a  Poem  ; 
8.  The  Glass  Town,  a  Song  ;  9.  The  Silver  Cup,  a  Tale  ; 
10.  The  Table  and  Vase  in  the  Desert,  a  Song ;  11.  Con- 
versations ;  12.  Scene  on  the  Great  Bridge  ;  13.  Song  of' 
the  Ancient  Britons  ;  14.  Scene  in  my  Tun,  a  Tale ;  15. 
An  American  Tale  ;  16.  Lines  written  on  seeing  the  Gar- 
den of  a  Genius;  17.  The  Lay  of  the  Glass  Town;  18. 
The  Swiss  Artist,  a  Tale;  19.  Lines  on  the  Transfer  of  this 
Magazine  ;  20.  On  the  Same,  by  a  different  hand  ;  21.  Chief 
Genii  in  Council ;  22.  Harvest  in  Spain  ;  23.  The  Swiss 
Artists,  continued;  24.  Conversations. 

^  The  Poetaster,  a  Drama,  in  2  volumes,  July  12,  1830. 

^  A  Book  of  Rhymes,  finished  December  17,  1829.  Con- 
tents : — 1.  The  Beauty  of  Nature ;  2.  A  Short  Poem  ;  3. 
Meditations  while  Journeying  in  a  Canadian  Forest;  4.  A 
Song  of  an  Exile  ;  5.  On  Seeing  the  Ruins  of  the  Tower  of 
Babel ;  6.  A  Thing  of  Fourteen  Lines  ;  7.  Lines  written  on 
the  Bank  of  a  River  one  Fine  Summer  Evening  ;  8.  Spring, 
a  Song  ;  9.  Autumn,  a  Song. 


86  LIFE  OF  CHAPtLOTTE  BRONTfi 


^  Miscellaneous  Poems,  finished  May  30,  1830.  Con- 
tents:  1.  The  Chnrchyard;  2.  Description  of  the  Dake  of 
Wellington's  Palace  on  the  Pleasant  Banks  of  the  Lusiva ; 
this  article  is  a  small  prose  tale  or  incident ;  3.  Pleasure ; 
4.  Lines  written  on  the  Summit  of  a  High  Mountain  of 
the  North  of  England  ;  5.  Winter  ;  6.  Two  Fragments, 
namely,  1st,  The  Vision  ;  2nd,  A  Short  untitled  Poem  ; 
The  Evening  Walk,  a  Poem,  June  23,  1830. 

^Making  in  the  whole  twenty-two  volumes. 

'C.  Bronte,  August  3,  1830.' 

As  each  volume  contains  from  sixty  to  a  hundred  pages, 
the  amount  of  the  whole  seems  very  great,  if  we  remember 
that  it  was  all  written  in  about  fifteen  months.  So  much 
for  the  quantity  ;  the  quality  strikes  me  as  of  singular 
merit  for  a  girl  of  thirteen  or  fourteen.  Both  as  a  speci- 
men of  her  prose  style  at  this  time,  and  also  as  revealing 
something  of  the  quiet  domestic  life  led  by  these  children, 
I  take  an  extract  from  the  introduction  to  ^  Tales  of  the 
Islanders,'  the  title  of  one  of  their  ^  Little  Magazines :' — 

'  June  the  31st,  1829. 

^  The  play  of  the     Islanders    was  formed  in  December 
1827,  in  the  following  manner:  One  night,  about  the  time 
when  the  cold  sleet  and  stormy  fogs  of  November  are  sue 
ceeded  by  the  snowstorms,  and  high,  piercing  night  winds 
of  confirmed  winter,  we  were  all  sitting  round  the  warm 
blazing  kitchen  fire,  having  just  concluded  a  quarrel  with 
Tabby  concerning  the  propriety  of  lighting  a  candle,  fro 
which  she  came  off  victorious,  no  candle  having  been  pro 
duced.    A  long  pause  succeeded,  which  was  at  last  broke 
by  Branwell  saying,  in  a  lazy  manner,     I  don't  know  wha 
to  do."    This  was  echoed  by  Emily  and  Anne. 

'  Tally,  "  Wha,  ya  may  go  t'  bed." 

'  BramoelL     I'd  rather  do  anything  than  that." 
'Charlotte,  ^^Why  are  you  so  glum  to-night.  Tabby? 
Oh!  suppose  we  had  each  an  island  of  our  own." 


I8o0      A  WINTER  EVENING  CONVERSATION  87 


^  Branwelh  *^If  we  had  I  would  choose  the  Island  of 
Man/^ 

'  Charlotte,  ^^And  I  would  choose  the  Isle  of  Wight/^ 

'Emily.  '^The  Isle  of  Arran  for  me/^ 

'Anne,  ^^And  mine  shall  be  Guernsey/^ 

'  We  then  chose  who  should  be  chief  men  in  our  islands. 
Branwell  chose  John  Bull,  Astley  Cooper,  and  Leigh  Hunt ; 
Emily,  Walter  Scott,  Mr.  Lockhart,  Johnny  Lockhart ; 
Anne,  Michael  Sadler,  Lord  Bentinck,  Sir  Henry  Halford. 
I  chose  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  two  sons,  Christopher 
North  and  Co.,  and  Mr.  Abernethy.  Here  our  conversa- 
tion was  interrupted  by  the,  to  us,  dismal  sound  of  the 
clock  striking  seven,  and  we  were  summoned  off  to  bed. 
The  next  day  we  added  many  others  to  our  list  of  men, 
till  we  got  almost  all  the  chief  men  of  the  kingdom.  After 
this,  for  a  long  time,  nothing  worth  noticing  occurred.  In 
June  1828  we  erected  a  school  on  a  fictitious  island,  which 
was  to  contain  1,000  children.  The  manner  of  the  build- 
ing was  as  follows  :  The  Island  was  fifty  miles  in  circum- 
ference, and  certainly  appeared  more  like  the  work  of 
enchantment  than  anything  real/  &c. 

Two  or  three  things  strike  me  much  in  this  fragment; 
one  is  the  graphid  vividness  with  which  the  time  of  the 
year,  the  hour  of  the  evening,  the  feeling  of  cold  and  dark- 
ness outside,  the  sound  of  the  night  winds  sweeping  over 
the  desolate  snow-covered  moors,  coming  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  at  last  shaking  the  very  door  of  the  room  where  they 
were  sitting  —  for  it  opened  out  directly  on  that  bleak, 
wide  expanse — is  contrasted  with  the  glow  and  busy  bright- 
ness of  the  cheerful  kitchen  where  these  remarkable  chil- 
dren are  grouped.  Tabby  moves  about  in  her  quaint  coun- 
try dress^.  frugal,  peremptory,  prone  to  find  fault  pretty 
sharply,  yet  allowing  no  one  else  to  blame  her  children,  we 
may  feel  sure.  Another  noticeable  fact  is  the  intelligent 
partisanship  with  which  they  choose  their  great  men,  who 
are  almost  all  staunch  Tories  of  the  time.  Moreover  they 
do  not  confine  themselves  to  local  heroes ;  their  range  of 


88 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


choice  has  been  widened  by  hearing  much  of  what  is  not 
usually  considered  to  interest  children.  Little  Anne,  aged 
scarcely  eight,  picks  out  the  politicians  of  the  day  for  her 
chief  men. 

There  is  another  scrap  of  paper,  in  this  all  but  illegible 
handwriting,  written  about  this  time,  and  w^iich  gives  some 
idea  of  the  sources  of  their  opinions. 

*THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  YEAR  1829.* 

*  Once  papa  lent  my  sister  Maria  a  book.  It  was  an  old 
geography  book ;  she  wrote  on  its  blank  leaf,  Papa  lent  me 
this  book.^^  This  book  is  a  hundred  and  twenty  years  old  ; 
it  is  at  this  moment  lying  before  me.  While  I  write  this  I 
am  in  the  kitchen  of  the  Parsonage,  Haworth ;  Tabby,  the 
servant,  is  washing  up  the  breakfast  things,  and  Anne,  my 
younger  sister  (Maria  was  my  eldest),  is  kneeling  on  a  chair, 
looking  at  some  cakes  which  Tabby  had  been  baking  for  us. 
Emily  is  in  the  parlour,  brushing  the  carpet.  Papa  and 
Branwell  are  gone  to  Keighley.  Aunt  is  upstairs  in  her 
room,  and  I  am  sitting  by  the  table  writing  this  in  the 
kitchen.  Keighley  is  a  small  town  four  miles  from  here. 
Papa  and  Branwell  are  gone  for  the  newspaper,  the  Leeds 
Intelligencer,'^  a  most  excellent  Tory  newspaper,  edited  by 
Mr.  Wood,  and  the  proprietor,  Mr.  Henneman.  We  take  two 
and  see  three  newspapers  a  week.  We  take  the  Leeds  In- 
telligencer/' Tory,  and  the  Leeds  Mercury,^'  Whig,  edited 
by  Mr.  Baines,  and  his  brother,  son-in-law,  and  his  two  sons, 
Edward  and  Talbot.  We  see  the  John  Bull ; "  it  is  a  high 
Tory,  very  violent.  Dr.  Driver  lends  us  it,  as  likewise 
"  Blackwood's  Magazine,"  the  most  able  periodical  there  is. 
The  editor  is  Mr.  Christopher  North,  an  old  man  seventy - 
four  years  of  age  ;  the  1st  of  April  is  his  birthday  ;  his  com- 
pany are  Timothy  Tickler,  Morgan  O'Doherty,  Macrabin 
Mordecai,  Mullion,  Warnell,  and  J ames  Hogg,  a  man  of  most 
extraordinary  genius,  a  Scottish  shepherd.  Our  plays  were 
established  :  Young  Men,"  June  1826  ;  Our  Fellows," 
July  1827;  ^^slanders,"  December  1827.    These  are  our 


1830 


HER  *  HISTORY  OF  THE  YEAR  1829' 


89 


three  great  plays  that  are  not  kept  secret.  Emily's  and  my 
best  plays  were  established  December  1,  1827  ;  the  others 
March  1828.  Best  plays  mean  secret  plays  ;  they  are  very 
nice  ones.  All  our  plays  are  very  strange  ones.  Their 
nature  I  need  not  write  on  paper,  for  I  think  I  shall  al- 
ways remember  them.  The  "  Young  Men's '"  play  took  its 
rise  from  some  wooden  soldiers  Branwell  had  ;  Our  Fel- 
lows ''  from  ^sop's  Fables  ; "  and  the  Islanders ''  from 
several  events  which  happened.  I  will  sketch  out  the  ori- 
gin of  our  plays  more  explicitly  if  I  can.  First,  Young 
Men.''  Papa  bought  Branwell  some  wooden  soldiers  at 
Leeds;  when  papa  came  home  it  was  night,  and  we  were  in 
bed,  so  next  morning  Branwell  came  to  our  door  with  a 
box  of  soldiers.  Emily  and  I  jumped  out  of  bed,  and  I 
snatched  up  one  and  exclaimed,  "  This  is  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  !  This  shall  be  the  Duke  !"  When  I  had  said 
this  Emily  likewise  took  up  one  and  said  it  should  be  hers  ; 
when  Anne  came  down  she  said  one  should  be  hers.  Mine 
was  the  prettiest  of  the  whole,  and  the  tallest,  and  the 
most  perfect  in  every  part.  Emily's  was  a  grave-looking 
fellow,  and  we  called  him  Gravey."  Anne's  was  a  queer 
little  thing,  much  like  herself,  and  we  called  him  Wait- 
ing-boy." Branwell  chose  his  and  called  him  Buona- 
parte.'"' 

The  foregoing  extract  shows  something  of  the  kind  of 
reading  in  which  the  little  Brontes  were  interested  ;  but 
their  desire  for  knowledge  must  have  been  excited  in  many 
directions,  for  I  find  a  ^  list  of  painters  whose  works  I  wish 
to  see'  drawn  up  by  Charlotte  when  she  was  scarcely 
thirteen — 

'  Guide  Reni,  Julio  Romano,  Titian,  Raphael,  Michael 
Angelo,  Correggio,  Annibal  Caracci,  Leonardo  da  Vinci, 
Fra  Bartolomeo,  Carlo  Cignani,  Vandyke,  Rubens,  Barto- 
lomeo  Ramerghi.' 

*  Dated  on  the  original  '  March  12,  1829.'  Mrs.  Gaskell  copied  the 
manuscript  with  two  trivial  variations. 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Here  is  this  little  girl,  in  a  remote  Yorkshire  parson- 
age, who  has  probably  never  seen  anything  worthy  of  the 
name  of  a  painting  in  her  life,  studying  the  names  and  char- 
acteristics of  the  great  old  Italian  and  Flemish  masters, 
whose  works  she  longs  to  see  some  time,  in  the  dim  future 
that  lies  before  her  !  There  is  a  paper  remaining  which 
contains  minute  studies  of,  and  criticisms  upon,  the  en- 
gravings in  ^  Friendship's  Offering  for  1829/  showing  how 
she  had  early  formed  those  habits  of  close  observation,  and 
patient  analysis  of  cause  and  effect,  which  served  so  well  in 
after-life  as  handmaids  to  her  genius. 

The  way  in  which  Mr.  Bronte  made  his  children  sym- 
pathise with  him  in  his  great  interest  in  politics  must  have 
done  much  to  lift  them  above  the  chances  of  their  minds 
being  limited  or  tainted  by  petty  local  gossip.  I  take  the 
only  other  remaining  personal  fragment  out  of  *  Tales  of 
the  Islanders;'  it  is  a  sort  of  apology,  contained  in  the  in- 
troduction to  the  second  volume,  for  their  not  having  been 
continued  before  ;  the  writers  had  been  for  a  long  time  too 
busy,  and  latterly  too  much  absorbed  in  politics. 

'  Parliament  was  opened,  and  the  great  Catholic  question 
was  brought  forward,  and  the  Duke's  measures  were  dis- 
closed, and  all  was  slander,  violence,  party  spirit,  and  con- 
fusion. Oh,  those  six  months,  from  the  time  of  the  King's 
Speech  to  the  end  !  Nobody  could  write,  think,  or  speak  on 
any  subject  but  the  Catholic  question,  and  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  and  Mr.  Peel.  I  remember  the  day  when  the 
Intelligence  Extraordinary  came  with  Mr.  Peel's  speech  in 
it,  containing  the  terms  on  which  the  Catholics  were  to  be 
let  in  !  With  what  eagerness  papa  tore  off  the  cover,  and 
how  we  all  gathered  round  him,  and  with  what  breathless 
anxiety  we  listened,  as  one  by  one  they  were  disclosed,  and 
explained,  and  argued  upon  so  ably,  and  so  well !  and  then 
when  it  was  all  out,  how  aunt  said  that  she  thought  it  was 
excellent,  and  that  the  Catholics  could  do  no  harm  with 
such  good  security  !  I  remember  also  the  doubts  as  to 
whether  it  would  pass  the  House  of  Lords,  and  the  proph- 


I 


1830 


FIRST  IMAGINATIVE  WRITING 


91 


ecies  that  it  would  not;  and  when  the  paper  came  which 
was  to  decide  the  question^  the  anxiety  was  almost  dreadful 
with  which  we  listened  to  the  whole  affair  :  the  opening  of 
the  doors  ;  the  hush  ;  the  royal  dukes  in  their  robes,  and 
the  great  Duke  in  green  sash  and  waistcoat;  the  rising  of 
all  the  peeresses  when  he  rose  ;  the  reading  of  his  speech — 
papa  saying  that  his  words  were  like  precious  gold  ;  and 
lastly,  the  majority  of  one  to  four  {sic)  in  favour  of  the 
Bill.    But  this  is  a  digression/  &c.  &c. 

This  must  have  been  written  when  she  was  between  thir- 
teen and  fourteen. 

It  will  be  interesting  to  some  of  my  readers  to  know  what 
was  the  character  of  her  purely  imaginative  writing  at  this 
period.  While  her  description  of  any  real  occurrence  is, 
as  we  have  seen,  homely,  graphic,  and  forcible,  when  she 
gives  way  to  her  powers  of  creation  her  fancy  and  her 
language  alike  run  riot,  sometimes  to  the  very  borders  of 
apparent  delirium.  Of  this  wild,  weird  writing  a  single  ex- 
ample will  suffice.  It  is  a  letter  to  the  editor  of  one  of  the 
'Little  Magazines.^ 

*  Sir, — It  is  well  known  that  the  Genii  have  declared  that 
unless  they  perform  certain  arduous  duties  every  year,  of 
a  mysterious  nature,  all  the  worlds  in  the  firmament  will 
be  burnt  up,  and  gathered  together  in  one  mighty  globe, 
which  will  roll  in  solitary  grandeur  through  the  vast  wilder- 
ness of  space,  inhabited  only  by  the  four  high  princes  of 
the  Genii,  till  time  shall  be  succeeded  by  Eternity;  and  the 
impudence  of  this  is  only  to  be  paralleled  by  another  of  their 
assertions,  namely,  that  by  their  magic  might  they  can  re- 
duce the  world  to  a  desert,  the  purest  waters  to  streams  of 
livid  poison,  and  the  clearest  lakes  to  stagnant  waters,  the 
pestilential  vapours  of  which  shall  slay  all  living  creatures, 
except  the  bloodthirsty  beast  of  the  forest,  and  the  raven- 
ous bird  of  the  rock.  But  that  in  the  midst  of  this  desola- 
tion the  palace  of  the  Chief  Genii  shall  rise  sparkling  in  the 
wilderness,  and  the  horrible  howl  of  their  war  cry  shall 


92 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


spread  over  the  land  at  morning,  at  noontide  and  night ; 
but  that  they  shall  have  their  annual  feast  over  the  bones 
of  the  dead,  and  shall  yearly  rejoice  with  the  joy  of  victors. 
I  think,  sir,  that  the  horrible  wickedness  of  this  needs  no 
remark,  and  therefore  I  haste  to  subscribe  myself,  &c. 
'July  14,  1829/ 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  foregoing  letter  may  have  had 
some  allegorical  or  political  reference,  invisible  to  our  eyes, 
but  very  clear  to  the  bright  little  minds  for  whom  it  was 
intended.  Politics  were  evidently  their  grand  interest;  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  their  demigod.  All  that  related  to 
him  belonged  to  the  heroic  age.  Did  Charlotte  want  a 
knight-errant,  or  a  devoted  lover,  the  Marquis  of  Douro,  or 
Lord  Charles  AVelleslej'',  came  ready  to  her  hand.  There  is 
hardly  one  of  her  prose  writings  at  this  time  in  which  they 
are  not  the  principal  personages,  and  in  which  their  ^august 
father'  does  not  appear  as  a  sort  of  Jupiter  Tonans,  or  Deus 
ex  Machina. 

As  one  evidence  how  Wellesley  haunted  her  imagination 
I  copy  out  a  few  of  the  titles  to  her  papers  in  the  various 
magazines. 

'  ^^Liffey  Castle,''  a  Tale  by  Lord  C.  Wellesley. 
^    Lines  to  the  River  Aragua,''  by  the  Marquis  of  Douro. 
^    An  Extraordinary  Dream,''  by  Lord  C.  Wellesley. 
^'^The  Green  Dwarf,  a  Tale  of  the  Perfect  Tense,"  by 
the  Lord  Charles  Albert  Plorian  Wellesley. 

Strange  Events,"  by  Lord  C.  A.  F.  Wellesley.'^ 

*  The  packet  in  which  Mrs.  Gaskell  found  these  numerous  treasures 
of  childhood  was  returned  by  her  to  Mr.  Bronie.  It  was  carried  by 
Mr.  Nicholls  to  Ireland  after  Mr.  Bronte's  death,  and  was  opened  forty 
years  afterwards  in  response  to  my  inquiry  for  new  material  concern- 
ing the  Bronte  children.  In  Charlotte  Bronte  and  Tier  Circle  1  have 
printed  a  list,  for  the  benefit  of  the  curious,  of  these  little  books  more 
complete  than  that  given  here  ;  but  Mrs.  Gaskell,  with  an  artist's  eye 
for  essentials,  has  seized  upon  suflSciently  representative  material.  She 
does  not,  however,  note  the  fact  that  a  considerable  number  of  these 
little  books  are  in  the  handwriting  of  Branwell  Bronte,  and  scarcely 


1830 


YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD 


93 


Life  in  an  isolated  village,  or  a  lonely  country  house, 
presents  many  little  occurrences  which  sink  into  the  mind 
of  childhood,  there  to  be  brooded  over.  No  other  event 
may  have  happened,  or  be  likely  to  happen,  for  days,  to 
push  one  of  these  aside,  before  it  has  assumed  a  vague  and 
mysterious  importance.  Thus  children  leading  a  secluded 
life  are  often  thoughtful  and  dreamy  :  the  impressions 
made  upon  them  by  the  world  without — the  unusual  sights 
of  earth  and  sky — the  accidental  meetings  with  strange 
faces  and  figures  (rare  occurrences  in  those  out-of-the-way 
places) — are  sometimes  magnified  by  them  into  things  so 
deeply  significant  as  to  be  almost  supernatural.  This  pe- 
culiarity I  perceive  -very  strongly  in  Charlotte's  writings 
at  this  time.  Indeed,  under  the  circumstances,  it  is  no 
peculiarity.  It  has  been  common  to  all,  from  the  Chal- 
dean shepherds — ^the  lonely  herdsman  stretched  on  the 
soft  grass  through  half  a  summer's  day' — the  solitary  monk 
■ — to  all  whose  impressions  from  without  have  had  time  to 
grow  and  vivify  in  the  imagination,  till  they  have  been  re- 
ceived as  actual  personifications,  or  supernatural  visions, 
to  doubt  which  would  be  blasphemy. 

To  counterbalance  this  tendency  in  Charlotte  was  the 
strong  common  sense  natural  to  her,  and  daily  called  into 
exercise  by  the  requirements  of  her  practical  life.  Her 
duties  were  not  merely  to  learn  her  lessons,  to  read  a  cer- 
tain quantity,  to  gain  certain  ideas  ;  she  had,  besides,  to 
brush  rooms,  to  run  errands  up  and  down  stairs,  to  help  in 
the  simpler  forms  of  cooking,  to  be  by  turns  playfellow 
and  monitress  to  her  younger  sisters  and  brother,  to  make 
and  to  mend,  and  to  study  economy  under  her  careful  aunt. 
Thus  we  see  that,  while  her  imagination  received  vivid  im- 
pressions, her  excellent  understanding  had  full  power  to 
rectify  them  before  her  fancies  became  realities.    On  a 

any  of  them  in  the  handwriting  of  Emily  and  Anne.  Charlotte  Bronte 
had  doubtless  destroyed  the  similar  booklets  belonging  to  her  sisters 
after  their  death,  probably  in  response  to  some  explicit  request  on 
their  part  that  all  their  private  papers  should  be  burnt. 


94  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


scrap  of  paper  she  has  written  down  the  following  re- 
lation: 

*  June  22,  1830,  6  o'clock  p.m. 

*  Haworth,  near  Bradford. 

^The  following  strange  occurrence  happened  on  June 
22,  1830  : — At  the  time  papa  was  very  ill,  confined  to  his 
bed,  and  so  weak  that  he  could  not  rise  without  assist- 
ance. Tabby  and  I  were  alone  in  the  kitchen,  about  half- 
past  nine  ante-meridian  (sic).  Suddenly  we  heard  a  knock 
at  the  door  ;  Tabby  rose  and  opened  it.  An  old  man  ap- 
peared, standing  without,  who  accosted  her  thus  : 

^  Old  Man.    '^Does  the  parson  live  here 

'Tally,  ^^Yes.'' 

'  Old  Man.    "  I  wish  to  see  him." 

'  Tally.       He  is  poorly  in  bed.'^ 

^  Old  Man.       I  have  a  message  for  him."^ 

'  Tally.    "  Who  from  ?" 

'  Old  Man.       From  the  Lord." 

'Tally.  ''Whor 

'  Old  Man.  ''  The  Lord.  He  desires  me  to  say  that  the 
Bridegroom  is  coming,  and  that  we  must  prepare  to  meet 
Him  ;  that  the  cords  are  about  to  be  loosed,  and  the  golden 
bowl  broken  ;  the  pitcher  broken  at  the  fountain." 

'  Here  he  concluded  his  discourse,  and  abruptly  went  his 
way.  As  Tabby  closed  the  door  I  asked  her  if  she  knew 
him.  Her  reply  was  that  she  had  never  seen  him  before, 
nor  any  one  like  him.  Though  I  am  fully  persuaded  that 
he  was  some  fanatical  enthusiast,  well-meaning  perhaps, 
but  utterly  ignorant  of  true  piety,  yet  I  could  not  forbear 
weeping  at  his  words,  spoken  so  unexpectedly  at  that  par- 
ticular period.^ 

Though  the  date  of  the  following  poem  is  a  little  uncer- 
tain, it  may  be  most  convenient  to  introduce  it  here.  It 
must  have  been  written  before  1833,  but  how  much  earlier 
there  are  no  means  of  determining.  I  give  it  as  a  specimen 
of  the  remarkable  poetical  talent  shown  in  the  various 


1S31 


HER  POETICAL  TALENT 


diminutive  writings  of  this  time,  at  least  in  all  of  them 
which  I  have  been  able  to  read: 

THE  WOUNDED  STAG. 

Passing  amid  the  deepest  shade 

Of  the  wood's  sombre  heart, 
Last  night  I  saw  a  wounded  deer 

Laid  lonely  and  apart. 

Such  light  as  pierced  the  crowded  boughs 

(Light  scattered,  scant,  and  dim) 
Passed  through  the  fern  that  formed  his  couch, 

And  centred  full  on  him. 

Pain  trembled  in  his  weary  limbs, 

Pain  filled  his  patient  eye ; 
Pain-crushed  amid  the  shadowy  fern 

His  branchy  crown  did  lie. 

Where  were  his  comrades  ?  where  his  mate  ? 

All  from  his  death  bed  gone  ! 
And  he,  thus  struck  and  desolate, 

Suffered  and  bled  alone. 

Did  he  feel  what  a  man  might  feel, 

Friend-left  and  sore  distrest  ? 
Did  Pain's  keen  dart,  and  Grief's  sharp  sting 
Strive  in  his  mangled  breast  ? 

Did  longing  for  affection  lost 

Barb  every  deadly  dart  ; 
Love  unrepaid,  and  Faith  betrayed, 

Did  these  torment  his  heart  ? 

No !  leave  to  man  his  proper  doom  I 

These  are  the  pangs  that  rise 
Around  the  bed  of  state  and  gloom, 

Where  Adam's  offspring  dies  ! 


CHAPTER  VI 


This  is  perhaps  a  fitting  time  to  give  some  personal  de- 
scription of  Miss  Bronte.  In  1831  she  was  a  quiet,  thought- 
ful girl,  of  nearly  fifteen  years  of  age,  very  small  in  figure 
— ^ stunted^  was  the  word  she  applied  to  herself — but,  as 
her  limbs  and  head  were  in  just  proportion  to  the  slight, 
fragile  body,  no  word  in  ever  so  slight  a  degree  suggestive 
of  deformity  could  properly  be  applied  to  her  ;  with  soft, 
thick  brown  hair,  and  peculiar  eyes,  of  which  I  find  it  dif- 
ficult to  give  a  description,  as  they  appeared  to  me  in  her 
later  life.  They  were  large  and  well  shaped  ;  their  colour 
a  reddish  brown  ;  but  if  the  iris  was  closely  examined  it 
appeared  to  be  composed  of  a  great  variety  of  tints.  The 
usual  expression  was  of  quiet,  listening  intelligence ;  but 
now  and  then,  on  some  just  occasion  for  vivid  interest  or 
wholesome  indignation,  a  light  would  shine  out,  as  if  some 
spiritual  lamp  had  been  kindled,  which  glowed  behind  those 
expressive  orbs.  I  never  saw  the  like  in  any  other  human 
creature.  As  for  the  rest  of  her  features,  they  were  plain, 
large,  and  ill  set ;  but,  unless  you  began  to  catalogue  them,  i 
you  were  hardly  aware  of  the  fact,  for  the  eyes  and  power  j 
of  the  countenance  overbalanced  every  physical  defect ;  the 
crooked  mouth  and  the  large  nose  were  forgotten,  and  the  ■ 
whole  face  arrested  the  attention,  and  presently  attracted 
all  those  whom  she  herself  would  have  cared  to  attract.  Her 
hands  and  feet  were  the  smallest  I  ever  saw ;  when  one  of 
the  former  was  placed  in  mine,  it  was  like  the  soft  touch  of 
a  bird  in  the  middle  of  my  palm.  The  delicate  long  fingers 
had  a  peculiar  fineness  of  sensation,  which  was  one  reason 
why  all  her  handiwork,  of  whatever  kind — writing,  sewing, 


1831  PERSONAL  DESCRIPTION  OF  MISS  BRONTE  97 


knitting — was  so  clear  in  its  minuteness.  She  was  remark- 
ably neat  in  her  whole  personal  attire  ;  but  she  was  dainty 
as  to  the  fit  of  her  shoes  and  gloves. 

I  can  well  imagine  that  the  grave,  serious  composure 
which,  when  I  knew  her,  gave  her  face  the  dignity  of  an 
old  Venetian  portrait,  was  no  acquisition  of  later  years,  but 
dated  from  that  early  age  when  she  found  herself  in  the 
position  of  an  elder  sister  to  motherless  children.  But  in 
a  girl  only  just  entered  on  her  teens  such  an  expression 
would  be  called  (to  use  a  country  phrase)  ^old-fashioned;' 
and  in  1831,  the  period  of  which  I  now  write,  we  must 
think  of  her  as  a  little,  set,  antiquated  girl,  very  quiet 
in  manners,  and  very  quaint  in  dress  ;  for  besides  the 
influence  exerted  by  her  father's  ideas  concerning  the 
simplicity  of  attire  befitting  the  wife  and  daughters  of  a 
country  clergyman,  her  aunt,  on  whom  the  duty  of  dress- 
ing her  nieces  principally  devolved,  had  never  been  in 
society  since  she  left  Penzance,  eight  or  nine  years  before, 
and  the  Penzance  fashions  of  that  day  were  still  dear  to 
her  heart. 

In  January  1831  Charlotte  was  sent  to  school  again. 
This  time  she  went  as  a  pupil  to  Miss  W  ,^  who  lived 

^  In  the  first  and  second  editions  Mrs.  Gaskell  printed  the  name  in 
full,  'Miss  Wooler.'  But  it  would  seem  clear  that  Miss  Wooler  had 
disliked  the  introduction  of  herself  by  name  into  the  biography,  and 
it  became  *  Miss  W  '  in  later  editions.  As,  however,  she  after- 
wards handed  her  letters  from  Charlotte  to  a  friend  for  publication, 
she  must  have  outlived  this  feeling  of  reticence.  Margaret  Wooler 
(1792-1885)  was  the  eldest  of  a  large  family.  She  was  assisted  at  dif- 
ferent times  by  her  three  sisters,  Susan,  Katherine,  and  Eliza,  in  her 
schools  at  Roe  Head  and  Dewsbury  Moor.  Susan  W^ooler  became 
the  wife  of  the  Rev.  E.  N.  Carter,  vicar  of  Heckmondwike,  who  pre- 
pared Charlotte  Bronte  for  confirmation  when  he  was  a  curate  at 
Mirfield  Parish  Church.  After  Margaret  Wooler  had  given  up  school- 
keeping  she  lived  first  at  Heckmondwike  with  her  sister  Susan  (Mrs, 
Carter),  and  afterwards  at  Gomersal,  near  Leeds,  where  she  died  at 
the  age  of  ninety-two.  She  was  described  by  a  pupil  as  *  short  and 
stout,  but  graceful  in  her  movements,  very  fluent  in  conversation, 
and  with  a  very  sweet  voice.'   She  was  buried  in  Birstall  churchyard, 


98 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTK 


at  Roe  Head,  a  cheerful,  roomy  country  house,  standing  a 
little  apart  in  a  field,  on  the  right  of  the  road  from  Leeds 
to  Huddersfield.  Three  tiers  of  old-fashioned  semicircular 
bow  windows  run  from  basement  to  roof  ;  and  look  down 
upon  a  long  green  slope  of  pasture  land,  ending  in  the 
pleasant  woods  of  Kirkle^s,  Sir  George  Armitage^s  park. 
Although  Roe  Head  and  Haworth  are  not  twenty  miles 
apart,  the  aspect  of  the  country  is  as  totally  dissimilar  as 
if  they  enjoyed  a  different  climate.  The  soft,  curving  and 
heaving  landscape  round  the  former  gives  a  stranger  the 
idea  of  cheerful  airiness  on  the  heights,  and  of  sunny 
warmth  in  the  broad  green  valleys  below.  It  is  just  such 
a  neighbourhood  as  the  monks  loved,  and  traces  of  the  old 
Plantagenet  times  are  to  be  met  with  everywhere,  side  by 
side  with  the  manufacturing  interests  of  the  West  Riding 
of  to-day.  There  is  the  park  of  Kirklees,  full  of  sunny 
glades,  speckled  with  black  shadows  of  immemorial  yew 
trees ;  the  grey  pile  of  building,  formerly  a  ^  House  of  pro-  ' 
fessed  Ladies;'  the  mouldering  stone  in  the  depth  of  the  • 
wood,  under  which  Robin  Hood  is  said  to  lie ;  close  outside  ; 
the  park,  an  old  stone -gabled  house,  now  a  roadside  inn, 
but  which  bears  the  name  of  the  ^  Three  Nuns,^  and  has  a 
picture  sign  to  correspond.  And  this  quaint  old  inn  is  fre-  ^ 
quented  by  fustian-dressed  mill-hands  from  the  neighbour- 
ing worsted  factories,  which  strew  the  highroad  from  Leeds  j 
to  Huddersfield,  and  form  the  centres  round  which  future  i 
villages  gather.  Such  are  the  contrasts  of  modes  of  living, 
and  of  times  and  seasons,  brought  before  the  traveller  on 
the  great  roads  that  traverse  the  West  Riding.  In  no 
other  part  of  England,  I  fancy,  are  the  centuries  brought 
into  such  close,  strange  contact  as  in  the  district  in  which 
Roe  Head  is  situated.  Within  six  miles  of  Miss  Wooler's 
house — on  the  left  of  the  road,  coming  from  Leeds — lie 
the  remains  of  Howley  Hall,  now  the  property  of  Lord 

where  her  epitaph  runs  as  follows  : — '  Margaret  Wooler.  Born  June 
10, 1792.  Died  June  3,  1885.  ''By  Thy  Gross  and  Passion,  good  Loi^d, 
deliver  us.''  * 


LIBRARY 

Of  ■>HE 


1831  NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF  ROE  HEAD  99 


Cardigan,  but  formerly  belonging  to  a  branch  of  the  Sav- 
iles.  Near  to  it  is  Lady  Anne^s  Well;  ^Lady  Anne/  ac- 
cording to  tradition,  having  been  worried  and  eaten  by 
wolves  as  she  sat  at  the  well,  to  which  the  indigo-dyed  fac- 
tory people  from  Birstall  and  Batley  woollen  mills  would 
formerly  repair  on  Palm  Sunday,  when  the  waters  possess 
remarkable  medicinal  eflBcacy  ;  and  it  is  still  believed  by 
some  that  they  assume  a  strange  variety  of  colours  at  six 
o^clock  on  the  morning  of  that  day. 

All  round  the  lands  held  by  the  farmer  who  lives  in  the 
remains  of  Howley  Hall  are  stone  houses  of  to-day,  occu- 
pied by  the  people  who  are  making  their  living  and  their 
fortunes  by  the  woollen  mills  that  encroach  upon  and 
shoulder  out  the  proprietors  of  the  ancient  halls.  These 
are  to  be  seen  in  every  direction,  picturesque,  many- 
gabled,  with  heavy  stone  carvings  of  coats  of  arms  for  he- 
raldic ornament ;  belonging  to  decayed  families,  from  whose 
ancestral  lands  field  after  field  has  been  shorn  away,  by  the 
urgency  of  rich  manufacturers  pressing  hard  upon  neces- 
sity. 

A  smoky  atmosphere  surrounds  these  old  dwellings  of 
former  Yorkshire  squires,  and  blights  and  blackens  the 
ancient  trees  that  overshadow  them ;  cinder  paths  lead  up 
to  them;  the  ground  round  about  is  sold  for  building 
upon;  but  still  the  neighbours,  though  they  subsist  by  a 
different  state  of  things,  remember  that  their  forefathers 
lived  in  agricultural  dependence  upon  the  owners  of  these 
halls,  and  treasure  up  the  traditions  connected  with  the 
stately  households  that  existed  centuries  ago.  Take  Oak- 
well  Hall,  for  instance.  It  stands  in  a  pasture  field,  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  highroad.  It  is  but  that  dis- 
tance from  the  busy  whirr  of  steam  engines  employed  in 
the  woollen  mills  at  Birstall ;  and  if  you  walk  to  it  from 
Birstall  Station  about  meal-time  you  encounter  strings  of 
mill  hands,  blue  with  woollen  dye,  and  cranching  in  hun- 
gry haste  over  the  cinder  paths  bordering  the  highroad. 
Turning  off  from  this  to  the  right,  you  ascend  through  an 


100 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


old  pasture  field,  and  enter  a  short  by-road,  called  the 
^Bloody  Lane^ — a  walk  haunted  by  the  ghost  of  a  certain 
Captain  Batt,  the  reprobate  proprietor  of  an  old  hall  close 
by,  in  the  days  of  the  Stuarts.  From  the  ^  Bloody  Lane/ 
overshadowed  by  trees,  you  come  into  the  field  in  which 
Oakwell  Hall  is  situated.  It  is  known  in  the  neighbour- 
hood to  be  the  place  described  as  ^  Field  Head,^  Shirley^s 
residence.  The  enclosure  in  front,  half  court,  half  gar- 
den ;  the  panelled  hall,  with  the  gallery  opening  into  the 
bedchambers  running  round ;  the  barbarous  peach-coloured 
drawing-room ;  the  bright  look-out  through  the  garden  door 
upon  the  grassy  lawns  and  terraces  behind,  where  the  soft- 
hued  pigeons  still  love  to  coo  and  strut  in  the  sun — are 
described  in  ^Shirley.''  The  scenery  of  that  fiction  lies 
close  around ;  the  real  events  which  suggested  it  took  place 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood. 

They  show  a  bloody  footprint  in  a  bedchamber  of  Oak- 
well  Hall,  and  tell  a  story  connected  with  it,  and  with  the 
lane  by  which  the  house  is  approached.  Captain  Batt  was 
believed  to  be  far  away ;  his  family  was  at  Oakwell ;  when 
in  the  dusk,  one  winter  evening,  he  came  stalking  along  the 
land,  and  through  the  hall,  and  up  the  stairs,  into  his  own 
room,  where  he  vanished.  He  had  been  killed  in  a  duel 
in  London  that  very  same  afternoon  of  December  9,  1684.' 

The  stones  of  the  Hall  formed  part  of  the  more  ancient 
vicarage,  which  an  ancestor  of  Captain  Batt  had  seized  in 
the  troublous  times  for  property  which  succeeded  the  Refor- 
mation. This  Henry  Batt  possessed  himself  of  houses  and 
money  without  scruple,  and  at  last  stole  the  great  bell  of 
Birstall  Church,  for  which  sacrilegious  theft  a  fine  was  im- 
posed on  the  land,  and  has  to  be  paid  by  the  owner  of  the 
Hall  to  this  day. 

But  the  Oakwell  property  passed  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
Batts  at  the  beginning  of  the  last  century;  collateral  de- 

*  Oliver  Heywood  in  his  Northowram  Register  has  this  entry  :  1684, 
*Mr.  Bat  of  Okewell,  a  young  man,  slain  by  Mr,  Gream  at  Barne(t), 
near  London  ;  buried  at  Birstall,  Dec.  30/ 


1831 


SCHOOL  AT  ROE  HEAD 


101 


scendants  succeeded,  and  left  this  picturesque  trace  of  their 
having  been.  In  the  great  hall  hangs  a  mighty  pair  of 
stage's  horns,  and  dependent  from  them  a  printed  card,  re- 
cording the  fact  that  on  September  1,  1763,  there  was  a 
great  hunting  match,  when  this  stag  was  slain;  and  that 
fourteen  gentlemen  shared  in  the  chase,  and  dined  on  the 
spoil  in  that  hall,  along  with  Fairfax  Fearneley,  Esq.,  the 
owner.  The  fourteen  names  are  given,  doubtless  ^mighty 
men  of  yore;^  but,  among  them  all.  Sir  Fletcher  Norton, 
Attorney-General,  and  Major-General  Birch  were  the  only 
ones  with  which  I  had  any  association  in  1855.  Passing  on 
from  Oakwell  there  lie  houses  right  and  left,  which  were 
well  known  to  Miss  Bronte,  when  she  lived  at  Roe  Head, 
as  the  hospitable  homes  of  some  of  her  schoolfellows.  Lanes 
branch  off  for  three  or  four  miles  to  heaths  and  commons 
on  the  higher  ground,  which  formed  pleasant  walks  on  hol- 
idays, and  then  comes  the  white  gate  into  the  field  path,  lead- 
ing to  Roe  Head  itself. 

One  of  the  bow-windowed  rooms  on  the  ground  floor, 
with  the  pleasant  look-out  I  have  described,  was  the  draw- 
ing-room ;  the  other  was  the  schoolroom.  The  dining-room 
was  on  one  side  of  the  door,  and  faced  the  road. 

The  number  of  pupils,  during  the  year  and  a  half  Miss 
Bronte  was  there,  ranged  from  seven  to  ten  ;  and  as  they 
did  not  require  the  whole  of  the  house  for  their  accommo- 
dation, the  third  story  was  unoccupied,  except  by  the  ghost- 
ly idea  of  a  lady,  whose  rustling  silk  gown  was  sometimes 
heard  by  the  listeners  at  the  foot  of  the  second  flight  of  stairs. 

The  kind,  motherly  nature  of  Miss  Wooler  and  the  small 
number  of  the  girls  made  the  establishment  more  like  a 
private  family  than  a  school.  Moreover  she  was  a  native 
of  the  district  immediately  surrounding  Roe  Head,  as  were 
the  majority  of  her  pupils.  Most  likely  Charlotte  Bronte, 
in  coming  from  Haworth,  came  the  greatest  distance  of  all. 
home  ^  was  flve  miles  away ;  two  other  dear  friends 

'  'E.'  was  EUen  Nussey  (1817-97),  a  girl  of  fourteen  when  she  first 
met  Charlotte  Bronte.    Her  home  was  at  this  time  and  until  1837  at 


102  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


(the  Rose  and  Jessie  Yorke  of  ^  Shirley^)  lived  still  nearer ; 
two  or  three  came  from  Huddersfield ;  one  or  two  from 
Leeds. 

I  shall  now  quote  from  a  valuable  letter  which  I  have 
received  from  ^  Mary/  ^  one  of  these  early  friends  ;  distinct 
and  graphic  in  expression,  as  becomes  a  cherished  associ- 
ate of  Charlotte  Bronte.  The  time  referred  to  is  her  first 
appearance  at  Roe  Head,  on  January  19,  1831.  ■  v 

first  saw  her  coming  out  of  a  covered  cart,  in  very 

The  Rydings.  Birstall,  Yorks.  From  1837  until  long  after  Charlotte 
Bronte's  death  she  lived  at  Brookroyd,  in  the  same  district.  The 
Rydings  served  in  part  for  *  Thornfield '  in  Jane  Eyre.  Charlotte 
Bronte's  friendship  for  Miss  Nussey  was  enthusiastic  and  based  upon 
gratitude  for  many  kindnesses.  Miss  Nussey  was  probably  from  the 
first  an  ardent  hero-worshipper  of  her  more  gifted  friend — her  senior 
by  a  year.  In  the  period  that  succeeded  Charlotte  Bronte's  death  thi§ 
hero-worship  became  little  less  than  idolatry,  and  Miss  Nussey  in  her 
later  years  received  numerous  visitors  who  were  anxious  to  learn 
something  of  the  Bronte  sisters.  To  these  visitors  she  was  always 
ready  to  give  courteous  consideration,  although  she  was  able  taadd 
but  little  to  the  information  which  in  the  days  when  memory  was 
most  acute  she  had  imparted  to  Mrs.  Gaskell.  She,  however,  inspired 
Sir  Wemyss  Reid,  as  has  been  stated,  to  write  twenty  years  later  his 
Charlotte  Bronte :  a  Monograph.  Miss  Bronte  denied,  however — to  her 
husband,  Mr.  Nicholls — that  she  had  intended  Caroline  Helstone  as  a 
presentation  of  her  friend.  The  whole  collection  of  Charlotte  Bronte's 
letters  to  Ellen  Nussey  was  privately  printed  by  Mr.  J.  Horsfall 
Turner,  of  Idle,  Yorks,  apparently  under  the  misapprehension  that 
the  letters  written  to  a  person  are  the  owner's  property  for  publica- 
tion, which  legally  they  are  not.  These  letters  were  reprinted,  in 
almost  complete  form,  by  permission  of  Mr.  Nicholls,  Miss  Bronte's 
husband  and  executor,  in  Charlotte  Bronte  and  her  Circle.  Mrs.  Gas- 
kell had  seen  the  correspondence,  and  made  her  selection  with  abso- 
lute discernment  of  essentials.  The  original  letters,  most  of  which 
are  now  the  property  of  Mr.  Thomas  Wise,  of  London,  are  valuable 
for  the  identification  of  names,  which  were  necessarily  omitted  by  Mrs. 
Gaskell  at  a  time  when  many  of  the  people  referred  to  were  still 
alive.  Miss  Nussey  died  at  Birstall,  Yorkshire,  and  was  buried  in 
Birstall  churchyard,  where  her  tomb  is  inscribed,  'Ellen  Nussey, 
youngest  daughter  of  the  above-named  John  Nussey,  who  died 
November  26,  1897,  aged  80  years.' 
^  Mary  Taylor,  the  Rose  Yorke  of  Shirley.    See  p.  108. 


1831 


IMPRESSION^c>  OF  A  SCHOOLFELLOW  103 


old-fashioned  clo'h'es,  and  looking  very  cold  and  misera- 
ble. She  was  coming  to  school  at  Miss  Wooler's.  When 
she  appeared  in  the  schoolroom  her  dress  was  changed, 
but  just  as  old.  She  looked  a  little  old  woman,  so  short- 
sighted that  she  always  appeared  to  be  seeking  something, 
and  moving  her  head  from  side  to  side  to  catch  a  sight  of 
it.  She  was  very  shy  and  nervous,  and  spoke  with  a 
strong  Irish  accent.  When  a  book  was  given  her  she 
dropped  her  head  over  it  till  her  nose  nearly  touched  it, 
and  when  she  was  told  to  hold  her  head  up,  up  went  the 
book  after  it,  still  close  to  her  nose,  so  that  it  was  not  pos- 
sible to  help  laughing.^ 

This  was  the  first  impression  she  made  upon  one  of 
those  whose  dear  and  valued  friend  she  was  to  become  in 
after-life.  Another  of  the  girls  recalls  her  first  sight  of 
Charlotte,  on  the  day  she  came,  standing  by  the  school- 
room window,  looking  out  on  the  snowy  landscape,  and 
crying,  while  all  the  rest  were  at  play.  ^E.^  was  younger 
than  she,  and  her  tender  heart  was  touched  by  the  appar- 
ently desolate  condition  in  which  she  found  the  oddly 
dressed,  old  -  looking  little  girl  that  winter  morning,  as 
^sick  for  home  she  stood  in  tears,'  in  a  new  strange  place, 
among  new  strange  people.  Any  over-demonstrative  kind- 
ness would  have  scared  the  wild  little  maiden  from  Haworth; 
but  ^  E.'  (who  is  shadowed  forth  in  the  Caroline  Helstone 
of  ^  Shirley managed  to  win  confidence,  and  was  allowed 
to  give  sympathy. 

To  quote  again  from  ^  Mary's '  letter — 

^  We  thought  her  very  ignorant,  for  she  had  never  learnt 
grammar  at  all,  and  very  little  geography.' 

This  account  of  her  partial  ignorance  is  confirmed  by 
her  other  schoolfellows.  But  Miss  Wooler  was  a  lady  of 
remarkable  intelligence  and  of  delicate,  tender  sympathy. 
She  gave  a  proof  of  this  in  her  first  treatment  of  Charlotte. 
The  little  girl  was  well  read,  but  not  well  grounded.  Miss 
Wooler  took  her  aside  and  told  her  she  was  afraid  that  she 
must  place  her  in  the  second  class  for  some  time,  till  she 


could  overtake  the  girls  of  her  own  ag€vin  the  knowledge 
of  grammar,  &c.;  but  poor  Charlotte  received  this  an- 
nouncement with  so  sad  a  fit  of  crying  that  Miss  Wooler's 
kind  heart  was  softened,  and  she  wisely  perceived  that, 
with  such  a  girl,  it  would  be  better  to  place  her'in  the  first 
class,  and  allow  her  to  make  up  by  private  study  in  those 
branches  where  she  was  deficient.  - 

^She  would  confound  us  by  knowing  tilings  that  were 
out  of  our  range  altogether.  She  was  acquainted  with 
most  of  the  short  pieces  of  poetry  that  we  had  to  learn  by 
heart;  would  tell  us  the  authors,  the  poems  they  were 
taken  from,  and  sometimes  repeat  a  page  or  two,  and  tell 
us  the  plot.  She  had  a  habit  of  writing  in  italics  (print- 
ing characters),  and  said  she  had  learnt  it  by  writing  in 
their  magazine.  They  brought  out  a  magazine  once 
a  month,  and  wished  it  to  look  as  like  print  as  possible. 
She  told  us  a  tale  out  of  it.  No  one  wrote  in  it,  and  no 
one  read  it,  but  herself,  her  brother,  and  two  sisters.  She 
promised  to  show  me  some  of  these  magazines,  but  re- 
tracted it  afterwards,  and  would  never  be  persuaded  to  do 
so.  In  our  play  hours  she  sat  or  stood  still,  with  a  book, 
if  possible.  Some  of  us  once  urged  her  to  be  on  our  side 
in  a  game  of  ball.  She  said  she  had  never  played,  and 
could  not  play.  We  made  her  try,  but  soon  found  that 
she  could  not  see  the  ball,  so  we  put  her  out.  She  took 
all  our  proceedings  with  pliable  indifference,  and  always 
seemed  to  need  a  previous  resolution  to  say  No  to  any- 
thing. She  used  to  go  and  stand  under  the  trees  in  the 
playground,  and  say  it  was  pleasanter.  She  endeavored 
to  explain  this,  pointing  out  the  shadows,  the  peeps  of 
sky,  &c.  We  understood  but  little  of  it.  She  said  that  at 
Cowan  Bridge  she  used  to  stand  in  the  burn,  on  a  stone,  to 
watch  the  water  flow  by.  I  told  her  she  should  have  gone 
fishing;  she  said  she  never  wanted.  She  always  showed 
physical  feebleness  in  everything.  She  ate  no  animal  food 
at  school.  It  was  about  this  time  I  told  her  she  was  very 
ugly.    Some  years  afterwards  I  told  her  I  thought  I  had 


1832       IMPRESSIONS  OF  A  SCHOOLFELLOW  105 


been  very  impertinent.  She  replied,  You  did  me  a  great 
deal  of  good,  Polly,  so  don't  repent  of  it/'  She  used  to  draw 
much  better,  and  more  quickly,  than  anything  we  had  seen 
before,  and  knew  much  about  celebrated  pictures  and  paint- 
ers. Whenever  an  opportunity  offered  of  examining  a  pict- 
ure or  cut  of  any  kind,  she  went  over  it  piecemeal,  with  her 
eyes  close  to  the  paper,  looking  so  long  that  we  used  to  ask 
her  what  she  saw  in  it.''  She  could  always  see  plenty, 
and  explained  it  very  well.  She  made  poetry  and  drawing 
at  least  exceedingly  interesting  to  me  ;  and  then  I  got  the 
habit,  which  I  have  yet,  of  referring  mentally  to  her  opin- 
ion on  all  matters  of* that  kind,  along  with  many  more,  re- 
solving to  describe  such  and  such  things  to  her,  until  I 
start  at  the  recollection  that  I  never  shall.' 

To  feel  the  full  force  of  this  last  sentence — to  show  how 
steady  and  vivid  was  the  impression  which  Miss  Bronte 
made  on  those  fitted  to  appreciate  her — I  must  mention 
that  the  writer  of  this  letter,  dated  January  18,  1856,  in 
which  she  thus  speaks  of  constantly  referring  to  Charlotte's 
opinion,  has  never  seen  her  for  eleven  years,  nearly  all  of 
which  have  been  passed  among  strange  scenes,  in  a  new 
continent,  at  the  antipodes. 

'  We  used  to  be  furious  politicians,  as  one  could  hardly 
help  being  in  1832.  She  knew  the  names  of  the  two  Min- 
istries ;  the  one  that  resigned,  and  the  one  that  succeeded 
and  passed  the  Reform  Bill.  She  worshipped  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  but  said  that  Sir  Robert  Peel  was  not  to  be 
trusted  ;  he  did  not  act  from  principle,  like  the  rest,  but 
from  expediency.  I,  being  of  the  furious  Radical  party, 
told  her,  How  could  any  of  them  trust  one  another  ? 
they  were  all  of  them  rascals  !"  Then  she  would  launch 
out  into  praises  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  referring  to  his 
actions ;  which  I  could  not  contradict,  as  1  knew  nothing 
about  him.  She  said  she  had  taken  interest  in  politics 
ever  since  she  was  five  years  old.  She  did  not  get  her 
opinions  from  her  father — that  is,  not  directly — but  from 
the  papers,  &c.,  he  preferred.' 


106  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


In  illustration  of  the  truth  of  this  I  may  give  an  extract 
from  a  letter  to  her  brother,  written  from  Roe  Head,  May 
17,  1832  : — '  Lately  I  had  begun  to  think  that  I  had  lost  all 
the  interest  which  I  used  formerly  to  take  in  politics ;  but 
the  extreme  pleasure  I  felt  at  the  news  of  the  Reform  BilFs 
being  thrown  out  by  the  House  of  Lords,  and  of  the  ex- 
pulsion, or  resignation,  of  Earl  Grey,  &c.,  convinced  me 
that  I  have  not  as  yet  lost  all  my  penchmit  for  politics.  I 
am  extremely  glad  that  aunt  has  consented  to  take  in 

Eraser's  Magazine;"  for,  though  I  know,  from  your  de- 
scription of  its  general  contents,  it  will  be  rather  uninter- 
esting when  compared  with  Blackwood,"  still  it  will  be 
better  than  remaining  the  whole  year  without  being  able  to 
obtain  a  sight  of  any  periodical  whatever ;  and  such  would 
assuredly  be  our  case,  as,  in  the  little  wild  moorland  vil- 
lage where  we  reside,  there  would  be  no  possibility  of  bor- 
rowing a  work  of  that  description  from  a  circulating  li- 
brary. I  hope  with  you  that  the  present  delightful  weather 
may  contribute  to  the  perfect  restoration  of  our  dear  papa^'s 
health  ;  and  that  it  may  give  aunt  pleasant  reminiscences 
of  the  salubrious  climate  of  her  native  place,"  &c.^ 

To  return  to  ^  Mary's '  letter — 

'  She  used  to  speak  of  her  two  elder  sisters,  Maria  and 
Elizabeth,  who  died  at  Cowan  Bridge.  I  used  to  believe 
them  to  have  been  wonders  of  talent  and  kindness.  She 

1  This  letter  commenced  as  follows  :— 

*  Dear  Bran  well, — As  usual  I  address  my  weekly  letter  to  you,  be- 
cause to  you  I  find  the  most  to  say.  I  feel  exceedingly  anxious  to 
know  how  and  in  what  state  you  arrived  at  home  after  your  long  and 
(I  should  think)  very  fatiguing  journey.  I  could  perceive  when  you 
arrived  at  Roe  Head  that  you  were  very  much  tired,  though  you  re- 
fused to  acknowledge  it.  After  you  were  gone  many  questions  and 
subjects  of  conversation  recurred  to  me  which  I  had  intended  to  men- 
tion to  you,  but  quite  forgot  them  in  the  agitation  which  I  felt  at  the 
totally  unexpected  pleasure  of  seeing  you.'  And  it  ended,  *  With 
love  to  all,  believe  me,  dear  Branwell,  to  remain  your  affectionate 
sister, 

'Charlotte.' 


HER  SCHOOL  DAYS  AT  ROE  HEAD  107 


told  me,  early  one  morning,  tliat  she  had  just  been  dream- 
ing :  she  had  been  told  that  she  was  wanted  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  it  was  Maria  and  Elizabeth.  I  was  eager  for  her 
to  go  on,  and  when  she  said  there  was  no  more,  I  said/^  But 
go  on  !  Mahe  it  out  !  I  know  you  can.'^  She  said  she  would 
not ;  she  wished  she  had  not  dreamed,  for  it  did  not  go  on 
nicely ;  they  were  changed ;  they  had  forgotten  what  they 
used  to  care  for.  They  were  very  fashionably  dressed,  and 
began  criticising  the  room,  &c. 

^  This  habit  of  making  out-^^  interests  for  themselves, 
that  most  children  get  who  have  none  in  jactual  life,  was 
very  strong  in  her.  The  whole  family  used  to  make  out" 
histories,  and  invent  characters  and  events.  I  told  her 
sometimes  they  were  like  growing  potatoes  in  a  cellar.  She 
said,  sadly,     Yes  !  I  know  we  are  !" 

^Some  one  at  school  said  she  ^^was  always  talking  about 
clever'people — Johnson,  Sheridan,'^  &c.  She  said,  ^^Now 
you  don't  know  the  meaning  of  clever.  Sheridan  might  be 
clever  ;  yes,  Sheridan  was  clever — scamps  often  are — but 
Johnson  hadn't  a  spark  of  cleverality  in  him."  No  one 
appreciated  the  opinion  ;  they  made  some  trivial  remark 
about    cleverality,^'  and  she  said  no  more. 

^This  is  the  epitome  of  her  life.  At  our  house  she  had 
just  as  little  chance  of  a  patient  hearing,  for  though  not 
school-girlish  we  were  more  intolerant.  We  had  a  rage  for 
practicality,  and  laughed  all  poetry  to  scorn.  Neither  she 
nor  we  had  any  idea  but  that  our  opinions  were  the 
opinions  of  all  ih^  sensible  people  in  the  world,  and  we  used 
to  astonish  each  other  at  every  sentence.  .  .  .  Charlotte, 
at  school,  had  no  plan  of  life  beyond  what  circumstances 
made  for  her.  She  knew  that  she  must  provide  for  herself, 
and  chose  her  trade  ;  at  least  chose  to  begin  it  once.  Her 
idea  of  self-improvement  ruled  her  even  at  school.  It  was 
to  cultivate  her  tastes.  She  always  said  there  was  enough 
of  hard  practicality  and  useful  knowledge  forced  on  us  by 
necessity,  and  that  the  thing  most  needed  was  to  soften 
and  refine  our  minds.    She  picked  up  every  scrap  of  infor- 


108  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BR0NT£ 


mation  concerning  painting,  sculpture,  poetry,  music,  &c., 
as  if  it  were  gold/ 

What  I  have  heard  of  her  school  days  from  other  sources 
confirms  the  accuracy  of  the  details  in  this  remarkable  let- 
ter/ She  was  an  indefatigable  student:  constantly  reading 
and  learning  ;  with  a  strong  conviction  of  the  necessity  and 
value  of  education,  very  unusual  in  a  girl  of  fifteen.  She 
never  lost  a  moment  of  time,  and  seemed  almost  to  grudge 
the  necessary  leisure  for  relaxation  and  play  hours,  which 
might  be  partly  accounted  for  by  the  awkwardness  in 
all  games  occasioned  by  her  shortness  of  sight.  Yet,  in 
spite  of  these  unsociable  habits,  she  was  a  great  favourite 
with  her  schoolfellows.  She  was  always  ready  to  try  and 
do  what  they  wished,  though  not  sorry  when  they  called 
her  awkward  and  left  her  out  of  their  sports.    Then,  at 

*  This  letter,  which  Mrs.  Gaskell  calls  '  remarkable/  was  written  by 
a  remarkable  woman.  Mary  Taylor  (1817-1893),  the  Rose  Yorke 
of  Shirley,  who  is  referred  to  by  Mrs.  Gaskell  as  'Mary,'  was  with 
her  sister  Martha — the  Jessie  Yorke  of  Shirley — at  Roe  Head  with 
Charlotte  Bronte.  She  received  much  additional  education  at  Brus- 
sels, where  Martha  died  and  was  buried  in  the  Protestant  cemetery. 
Reverses  coming  to  her  family — whose  characteristics  ran  much  upon 
the  same  lines  as  those  of  the  Yorkes  of  Shirley — Mary  Taylor  emi- 
grated to  Wellington,  New  Zealand,  where  she  started  a  small  drapery 
store.  This  and  other  letters  to  Mrs.  .Gaskell  are  written  from  Wel- 
lington. All  her  letters  show  remarkable  intellectual  powers,  and  in- 
deed it  would  not  be  too  much  to  say  that  until  Miss  Bronte  attained 
to  literary  fame  Mary  Taylor  was  the  only  human  being  of  a  high  or- 
der of  intelligence  with  whom  she  had  come  in  contact  apart  from  her 
own  family  circle.  Miss  Taylor's  two  books,  however,  published 
upon  her  return  to  England,  had  no  special  significance.  One  of  them. 
Miss  Miles :  a  Tale  of  Yorkshire  Life  Sixty  Years  Ago,  was  published 
so  late  as  1890,  while  The  First  Duty  of  Women  :  a  Series  of  Articles 
reprinted  from  the  *  Victorian  Magazine,  1865  to  1870,'  was  published 
in  1870.  The  last  thirty  years  of  her  life  were  passed  in  a  house  built 
for  her  by  a  brother  at  High  Royd,  near  Gomersal,  Yorks,  and  here 
she  died  in  March  1893,  aged  seventy-six.  Her  tomb  in  Gomersal 
churchyard  is  inscribed,  'In  affectionate  remembrance  of  Mary  Tay- 
lor of  High  Royd,  Gomersal.  Born  February  26,  1817.  Died  March 
1,  1893.' 


1832 


HER  SCHOOL  DAYS  AT  ROE  HEAD  109 


night,  she  was  an  invaluable  story-teller,  frightening  them 
almost  out  of  their  wits  as  they  lay  in  bed.  On  one  occa- 
sion the  effect  was  such  that  she  was  led  to  scream  out 
aloud,  and  Miss  Wooler,  coming  upstairs,  found  that  one 
of  the  listeners  had  been  seized  with  violent  palpitations 
in  consequence  of  the  excitement  produced  by  Charlotte^s 
story. 

Her  indefatigable  craving  for  knowledge  tempted  Miss 
Wooler  on  into  setting  her  longer  and  longer  tasks  of  read- 
ing for  examination ;  and  towards  the  end  of  the  year  and 
a  half  that  she  remained  as  a  pupil  at  Roe  Head  she  received 
her  first  bad  mark  for  an  imperfect  lesson.  She  had  had  a 
great  quantity  of  Blair's  '  Lectures  on  Belles-Lettres '  to 
read,  and  she  could  not  answer  some  of  the  questions  upon 
it;  Charlotte  Bronte  had  a  bad  mark.  Miss  Wooler  was 
sorry,  and  regretted  that  she  had  set  Charlotte  so  long  a 
task.  Charlotte  cried  bitterly.  But  her  schoolfellows  were 
more  than  sorry — they  were  indignant.  They  declared  that 
the  infliction  of  ever  so  slight  a  punishment  on  Charlotte 
Bronte  was  unjust — for  who  had  tried  to  do  her  duty  like 
her? — and  testified  their  feeling  in  a  variety  of  ways,  until 
Miss  Wooler,  who  was  in  reality  only  too  willing  to  pass 
over  her  good  pupil's  first  fault,  withdrew  the  bad  mark ; 
and  the  girls  all  returned  to  their  allegiance  except  ^  Mary,' 
who  took  her  own  way  during  the  week  or  two  that  re- 
mained of  the  half-year,  choosing  to  consider  that  Miss 
Wooler,  in  giving  Charlotte  Bronte  so  long  a  task,  had 
forfeited  her  claim  to  obedience  of  the  school  regulations. 

The  number  of  pupils  was  so  small  that  the  attendance 
to  certain  subjects  at  particular  hours,  common  in  larger 
schools,  was  not  rigidly  enforced.  When  the  girls  were 
ready  with  their  lessons  they  came  to  Miss  Wooler  to  say 
them.  She  had  a  remarkable  knack  of  making  them  feel 
interested  in  whatever  they  had  to  learn.  They  set  to  their 
studies,  not  as  to  tasks  or  duties  to  be  got  through,  but 
with  a  healthy  desire  and  thirst  for  knowledge,  of  which 
she  had  managed  to  make  them  perceive  the  relishing 


110 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


savour.  They  did  not  leave  off  reading  and  learning  as 
soon  as  the  compulsory  pressure  of  school  was  taken  away. 
They  had  been  taught  to  think,  to  analyse,  to  reject,  to 
appreciate.  Charlotte  Bronte  was  happy  in  the  choice 
made  for  her  of  the  second  school  to  which  she  was  sent. 
There  was  a  robust  freedom  in  the  out-of-doors  life  of  her 
companions.  They  played  at  merry  games  in  the  fields 
round  the  house  :  on  Saturday  half-holidays  they  went  long 
scrambling  walks  down  mysterious  shady  lanes,  then  climb- 
ing the  uplands,  and  thus  gaining  extensive  views  over  the 
country,  about  which  so  much  had  to  be  told,  both  of  its 
past  and  present  history. 

Miss  Wooler  must  have  had  in  great  perfection  the 
French  art  ^center,' to  judge  from  her  pupil's  recollections 
of  the  tales  she  related  during  these  long  walks,  of  this  old 
house,  or  that  new  mill,  and  of  the  states  of  society  conse- 
quent on  the  changes  involved  by  the  suggestive  dates  of 
either  building.  She  remembered  the  times  when  watchers 
or  wakeners  in  the  night  heard  the  distant  word  of  com- 
mand and  the  measured  tramp  of  thousands  of  sad,  desperate 
men  receiving  a  surreptitious  military  training,  in  prepara- 
tion for  some  great  day  which  they  saw  in  their  visions, 
when  right  should  struggle  with  might  and  come  off  victo- 
rious ;  when  the  people  of  England,  represented  by  the 
workers  of  Yorkshire,  Lancashire,  and  Nottinghamshire, 
should  make  their  voice  heard  in  a  terrible  slogan,  since 
their  true  and  pitiful  complaints  could  find  no  hearing  in 
Parliament.  We  forget  nowadays,  so  rapid  have  been  the 
changes  for  the  better,  how  cruel  was  the  condition  of  num- 
bers of  labourers  at  the  close  of  the  great  Peninsular  war. 
The  half-ludicrous  nature  of  some  of  their  grievances  has 
lingered  on  in  tradition  ;  the  real  intensity  of  their  suffer- 
ings has  become  forgotten.  They  were  maddened  and  des- 
perate ;  and  the  country,  in  the  opinion  of  many,  seemed  to 
be  on  the  verge  of  a  precipice,from  which  it  was  only  saved 
by  the  prompt  and  resolute  decision  of  a  few  in  authority. 
Miss  Wooler  spoke  of  those  times  ;  of  the  mysterious  nightly 


1833     MR.  CARTWRIGHT  AND  THE  LUDDITES  111 


drillings  ;  of  thousands  on  lonely  moors ;  of  the  muttered 
threats  of  individuals  too  closely  pressed  upon  by  necessity 
to  be  prudent ;  of  the  overt  acts,  in  which  the  burning 
of  Cartwright^s  mill  took  a  prominent  place  ;  and  these 
things  sank  deep  into  the  mind  of  one,  at  least,  among  her 
hearers. 

Mr.  Cartwright  was  the  owner  of  a  factory  called  Raw- 
folds,  in  Liversedge,  not  beyond  the  distance  of  a  walk  from 
Roe  Head.  He  had  dared  to  employ  machinery  for  the 
dressing  of  wollen  cloth,  which  was  an  unpopular  measure 
in  1812,  when  many  other  circumstances  conspired  to  make 
the  condition  of  the  mill-hands  unbearable  from  the  press- 
ure of  starvation  and  misery.  Mr.  Cartwright  was  a  very 
remarkable  man,  having,  as  I  have  been  told,  some  foreign 
blood  in  him,  the  traces  of  which  were  very  apparent  in  his 
tall  figure,  dark  eyes  and  complexion,  and  singular  though 
gentlemanly  bearing.  At  any  rate  he  had  been  much 
abroad,  and  spoke  French  well,  of  itself  a  suspicious  circum- 
stance to  the  bigoted  nationality  of  those  days.  Altogether 
he  was  an  unpopular  man,  even  before  he  took  the  last  step 
of  employing  shears,' instead  of  hands,  to  dress  his  wool. 
He  was  quite  aware  of  his  unpopularity,  and  of  the  probable 
consequences.  He  had  his  mill  prepared  for  an  assault. 
He  took  up  his  lodgings  in  it;  and  the  doors  were  strongly 
barricaded  at  night.  On  every  step  of  the  stairs  there  was 
placed  a  roller,  spiked  with  barbed  points  all  round,  so  as 
to  impede  the  ascent  of  the  rioters,  if  they  succeeded  in 
forcing  the  doors. 

On  the  night  of  Saturday,  April  11,  1812,  the  assault  was 
made.  Some  hundreds  of  starving  cloth-dressers  assembled 
in  the  very  field  near  Kirklees  that  sloped  down  from  the 
house  which  Miss  Wooler  afterwards  inhabited,  and  were 
armed  by  their  leaders  with  pistols,  hatchets,  and  bludgeons, 
many  of  which  had  been  extorted,  by  the  nightly  bands  that 

^  This  should  have  been  *  cropping  machines;'  shears  were  em- 
ployed in  dressing  cloth  by  hand.  Nor  was  it  unspun  wool,  but  cloth, 
over  which  the  Luddites  rioted. 


112 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


prowled  about  the  country,  from  such  inhabitants  of  lonely 
houses  as  had  provided  themselves  with  these  means  of 
self-defence.  The  silent^  sullen  multitude  marched  in  the 
dead  of  that  spring  night  to  Rawfolds,  and,  giving  tongue 
with  a  great  shout,  roused  Mr.  Cartwright  up  to  the 
knowledge  that  the  long-expected  attack  was  come.  He 
was  within  walls,  it  is  true ;  but  against  the  fury  of  hun- 
dreds he  had  only  four  of  his  own  workmen  and  five  sol- 
diers to  assist  him.  These  ten  men,  however,  managed  to 
keep  up  such  a  vigorous  and  well-directed  fire  of  musketry 
that  they  defeated  all  the  desperate  attempts  of  the  multi- 
tude outside  to  break  down  the  doors,  and  force  a  way  into 
the  mill ;  and,  after  a  conflict  of  twenty  minutes,  during 
which  two  of  the  assailants  were  killed  and  several  wound- 
ed, they  withdrew  in  confusion,  leaving  Mr.  Cartwright 
master  of  the  field,  but  so  dizzy  and  exhausted,  now  the 
peril  was  past,  that  he  forgot  the  nature  of  his  defences, 
and  injured  his  leg  rather  seriously  by  one  of  the  spiked 
rollers,  in  attempting  to  go  up  his  own  staircase.  His 
dwelling  was  near  the  factory.  Some  of  the  rioters  vowed 
that,  if  he  did  not  give  in,  they  would  leave  this,  and  go  to 
his  house,  and  murder  his  wife  and  children.  This  was  a 
terrible  threat,  for  he  had  been  obliged  to  leave  his  family 
with  only  one  or  two  soldiers  to  defend  them.  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright knew  what  they  had  threatened ;  and  on  that 
dreadful  night,  hearing,  as  she  thought,  steps  approach- 
ing, she  snatched  up  her  two  infant  children,  and  put  them 
in  a  basket  up  the  great  chimn^ey,  common  in  old-fashioned 
Yorkshire  houses.  One  of  the  two  children  who  had  been 
thus  stowed  away  used  to  point  out  with  pride,  after  she 
had  grown  up  to  woman^s  estate,  the  marks  of  musket  shot 
and  the  traces  of  gunpowder  on  the  walls  of  her  father's 
mill.  He  was  the  first  that  had  offered  any  resistance  to 
the  progress  of  the  ^  Luddites,'  who  had  become  by  this 
time  so  numerous  as  almost  to  assume  the  character  of  an 
insurrectionary  army.  Mr.  Cartwright's  conduct  was  so 
much  admired  by  the  neighbouring  mill-owners  that  they 


1832        MR.  ROBERSON  OF  HEALD'S  HALL  113 


entered  into  a  subscription  for  his  benefit,  which  amounted 
in  the  end  to  3,000Z.i 

Not  much  more  than  a  fortnight  after  this  attack  on 
Eawfolds,  another  manufacturer  who  employed  the  ob- 
noxious machinery  was  shot  down  in  broad  daylight,  as  he 
was  passing  over  Ciossland  Moor,  which  was  skirted  by  a 
small  plantation  in  which  the  murderers  lay  hidden.  The 
readers  of  ^  Shirley^  will  recognise  these  circumstances, 
which  were  related  to  Miss  Bronte  years  after  they  oc- 
curred, but  on  the  very  spots  where  they  took  place,  and 
by  persons  who  remembered  full  well  those  terrible  times 
of  insecurity  to  life  and  property  on  the  one  hand,  and  of 
bitter  starvation  and  blind,  ignorant  despair  on  the  other. 

Mr.  Bronte  himself  had  been  living  amongst  these  very 
people  in  1812,  as  he  was  then  clergyman  at  Hartshead,  not 
three  miles  from  Rawfolds ;  and,  as  I  have  mentioned, 
it  was  in  these  perilous  times  that  he  began  his  custom 
of  carrying  a  loaded  pistol  continually  about  with  him. 
For  not  only  his  Tory  politics,  but  his  love  and  regard  for 
the  authority  of  the  law  made  him  despise  the  cowardice 
of  the  surrounding  magistrates,  who,  in  their  dread  of  the 
Luddites,  refused  to  interfere  so  as  to  prevent  the  destruc- 
tion of  property.  The  clergy  of  the  district  were  the 
bravest  men  by  far. 

There  was  a  Mr.  Roberson,  of  Heald's  Hall,  a  friend  of 
Mr.  Bronte,  who  has  left  a  deep  impression  of  himself  on 
the  public  mind.  He  lived  near  Heckmondwike,  a  large, 
straggling,  dirty  village,  not  two  miles  from  Roe  Head.  It 
was  principally  inhabited  by  blanket  weavers,  who  worked 
in  their  own  cottages  ;  and  Heald's  Hall  is  the  largest 
house  in  the  village,  of  which  Mr.  Roberson  was  the  vicar. 
At  his  own  cost  he  built  a  handsome  church  at  Liversedge, 
on  a  hill  opposite  the  one  on  which  his  house  stood,  which 
was  the  first  attempt  in  the  West  Riding  to  meet  the  wants 

^  Cartwright  was  buried  in  Liversedge  churchyard.    The  inscrip- 
tion on  his  tomb  runs,  *  Wm.  Cartwright,  of  Rawfolds^  died  April  15, 
1839,  aged  64  years.* 
8 


114  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


of  the  overgrown  population,  and  made  many  personal  sac- 
rifices for  his  opinions,  both  religious  and  political,  which 
were  of  the  true  old-fashioned  Tory  stamp.  He  hated 
everything  which  he  fancied  had  a  tendency  towards 
anarchy.  He  was  loyal  in  every  fibre  to  Church  and 
King  ;  and  would  have  proudly  laid  down  his  life,  any 
day,  for  what  he  believed  to  be  right  and  true.  But  he 
was  a  man  of  an  imperial  will,  and  by  it  he  bore  down  op- 
position, till  tradition  represents  him  as  having  something 
grimly  demoniac  about  him.  He  was  intimate  with  Cart- 
wright,  and  aware  of  the  attack  likely  to  be  made  on  his 
mill ;  accordingly,  it  is  said,  he  armed  himself  and  his 
household,  and  was  prepared  to  come  to  the  rescue,  in  the 
event  of  a  signal  being  given  that  aid  was  needed.  Thus 
far  is  likely  enough.  Mr.  Roberson  had  plenty  of  warlike 
spirit  in  him,  man  of  peace  though  he  was. 

But,  in  consequence  of  his  having  taken  the  unpopular 
side,  exaggerations  of  his  character  linger  as  truth  in  the 
minds  of  the  people ;  and  a  fabulous  story  is  told  of  his 
forbidding  any  one  to  give  water  to  the  wounded  Luddites, 
left  in  the  mill  yard,  when  he  rode  in  the  next  morning  to 
congratulate  his  friend  Cartwright  on  his  successful  de- 
fence. Moreover,  this  stern,  fearless  clergyman  had  the 
soldiers  that  were  sent  to  defend  the  neighbourhood  bil- 
leted at  his  house  ;  and  this  deeply  displeased  the  work- 
people, who  were  to  be  intimidated  by  the  red-coats.  Al- 
though not  a  magistrate,  he  spared  no  pains  to  track  out 
the  Luddites  concerned  in  the  assassination  I  have  men- 
tioned ;  and  was  so  successful  in  his  acute,  unflinching 
energy  that  it  was  believed  he  had  been  supernaturally 
aided  ;  and  the  country  people,  stealing  into  the  fields  sur- 
rounding Heald's  Hall  on  dusky  winter  evenings,  years  after 
this  time,  declared  that  through  the  windows  they  saw  Par- 
son Roberson  dancing,  in  a  strange  red  light,  with  black 
demons  all  whirling  and  eddying  round  him.  He  kept  a 
large  boys'  school,  and  made  himself  both  respected  and 
dreaded  by  his  pupils.    He  added  a  grim  kind  of  humour  to 


1833         MR.  ROBERSON  OF  HEALD'S  HALL  115 


his  strength  of  will ;  and  the  former  qnality  suggested  to  his 
fancy  strange^  out-of-the-way  kinds  of  punishment  for  any 
refractory  pupils  :  for  instance,  he  made  them  stand  on  one 
leg  in  a  corner  of  the  schoolroom,  holding  a  heavy  book  in 
each  hand  ;  and  once,  when  a  boy  had  run  away  home,  he 
followed  him  on  horseback,  reclaimed  him  from  his  parents, 
and,  tying  him  by  a  rope  to  the  stirrup  of  his  saddle,  made 
him  run  alongside  of  his  horse  for  the  many  miles  they 
had  to  traverse  before  reaching  Heald's  Hall. 

One  other  illustration  of  his  character  may  be  given.  He 
discovered  that  his  servant  Betty  had  ^a  follower;^  and, 
watching  his  time  till  Richard  was  found  in  the  kitchen,  he 
ordered  him  into  the  dining-room,  where  the  pupils  were 
all  assembled.  He  then  questioned  Richard  whether  he 
had  come  after  Betty  ;  and  on  his  confessing  the  truth,  Mr. 
Roberson  gave  the  word,  ^  OS.  with  him,  lads,  to  the  pump  V 
The  poor  lover  was  dragged  to  the  courtyard,  and  the  pump 
set  to  play  upon  him  ;  and,  between  every  drenching,  the 
question  was  put  to  him,  ^  Will  you  promise  not  to  come 
after  Betty  again  ?'  For  a  long  time  Richard  bravely  re- 
fused to  give  in,  when  *  Pump  again,  lads  V  was  the  order. 
But,  at  last,  the  poor  soaked  ^follower  ^  was  forced  to  yield, 
and  renounce  his  Betty.* 

The  Yorkshire  character  of  Mr.  Roberson  would  be  in- 
complete if  I  did  not  mention  his  fondness  for  horses.  He 
lived  to  be  a  very  old  man,  dying  some  time  nearer  to  1840 
than  1830  ;  and  even  after  he  was  eighty  years  of  age  he 
took  great  delight  in  breaking  refractory  steeds ;  if  neces- 
sary, he  would  sit  motionless  on  their  backs  for  half  an  hour 
or  more  to  bring  them  to.  There  is  a  story  current  that 
once,  in  a  passion,  he  shot  his  wife^s  favourite  horse,  and 

*  There  is  another  side  to  this  story,  if  a  tradition,  thus  recorded  by 
Mr.  Erskine  Stuart,  is  to  be  relied  on  : — 

*  Two  can  play  at  practical  jokes,  and  the  half-drowned  swain  and 
a  few  kindred  spirits  paid  a  midnight  visit  to  Roberson's  yard,  de- 
stroyed all  the  milk  pans,  and  poured  their  precious  contents  on  the 
ground  as  a  libation  to  their  god,  Revenge/ 


116  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


buried  it  near  a  quarry,  where  the  ground,  some  years  after, 
miraculously  opened  and  displayed  the  skeleton  ;  but  the 
real  fact  is,  that  it  was  an  act  of  humanity  to  put  a  poor  old 
horse  out  of  misery ;  and  that,  to  spare  it  pain,  he  shot  it 
with  his  own  hand,  and  buried  it  where,  the  ground  sink- 
ing afterwards  by  the  working  of  a  coal-pit,  the  bones  came 
to  light.  The  traditional  colouring  shows  the  animus  with 
which  his  memory  is  regarded  by  one  set  of  people.  By 
another,  the  neighbouring  clergy,  who  remember  him  rid- 
ing, in  his  old  age,  down  the  hill  on  which  his  house  stood, 
upon  his  strong  white  horse— his  bearing  proud  and  digni- 
fied, his  shovel  hat  bent  over  and  shadowing  his  keen  eagle 
eyes — going  to  his  Sunday  duty,  like  a  faithful  soldier  that 
dies  in  harness  —  who  can  appreciate  his  loyalty  to  con- 
science, his  sacrifices  to  duty,  and  his  stand  by  his  religion 
— his  memory  is  venerated.  In  his  extreme  old  age  a  ru- 
bric meeting  was  held,  at  which  his  clerical  brethren  gladly 
subscribed  to  present  him  with  a  testimonial  of  their  deep 
respect  and  regard.^ 

This  is  a  specimen  of  the  strong  character  not  seldom 
manifested  by  the  Yorkshire  clergy  of  the  Established 

^  Hammond  Roberson  (1757-1841),  bora  at  Cawston,  Norfolk,  was  a 
student  of  Magdalen  College,  Cambridge.  He  was  curate  of  Dews- 
bury,  Yorks,  for  nine  years  from  1779.  In  1788  he  resigned  his  curacy 
and  took  up  his  residence  at  Squirrel  Hall,  Dewsbury  Moor.  Here  he 
remained  and  began  a  successful  career  as  a  teacher.  In  1795  he  pur- 
chased Heald's  Hall,  Liversedge,  and  shortly  afterwards  became  in- 
cumbent of  Hartshead-cum-Clifton,  resigning  in  1800.  In  1813  he 
delivered  a  sermon — afterwards  published — at  the  laying  of  the  founda- 
tion stone  of  a  church  at  Liversedge,  which  he  was  largely  instrumental 
in  building.  It  was  completed  in  1816.  A  memorial  window  to  him 
in  Liversedge  Church  bears  the  inscription — 

*  To  the  glory  of  God,  and  in  memory  of  the  Bev.  Hammond  Roberson, 
M.A.,  Founder  of  this  Church  in  1816,  and  its  first  Incumbent^  who  died 
9th  August,  1841,  aged  84  years;* 

and  his  tombstone  in  the  churchyard  bears  the  following  inscrip- 
tion : — 

*  The  Bev.  Hammond  Roberson,  Founder  of  this  Church  in  1816,  died 
August  9th,  1841,  aged  84.' 


1833     SCENES  AT  HECKMONDWIKE  CHAPELS  117 


Church.  Mr.  Roberson  was  a  friend  of  Charlotte  Bronte's 
father  ;  lived  within  a  couple  of  miles  of  Roe  Head  while 
she  was  at  school  there  ;  and  was  deeply  engaged  in  trans- 
actions, the  memory  of  which  was  yet  recent  when  she 
heard  of  them,  and  of  the  part  which  he  had  had  in  them. 

I  may  now  say  a  little  on  the  character  of  the  Dissenting 
population  immediately  surrounding  Roe  Head;  for  the 
^  Tory  and  clergyman^s  daughter/  ^  taking  interest  in  pol- 
itics ever  since  she  was  five  years  old/  and  holding  frequent 
discussions  with  such  of  the  girls  as  were  Dissenters  and 
Radicals,  was  sure  to  have  made  herself  as  much  acquainted 
as  she  could  with  the  condition  of  those  to  whom  she  was 
opposed  in  opinion. 

The  bulk  of  the  population  were  Dissenters,  principally 
Independents.  In  the  village  of  Heckmondwike,  at  one  end 
of  which  Roe  Head  is  situated,*  there  were  two  large  chapels 
belonging  to  that  denomination,  and  one  to  the  Methodists, 
all  of  which  were  well  filled  two  or  three  times  on  a  Sun- 
day, besides  having  various  prayer  meetings,  fully  attended 
on  weekdays.  The  inhabitants  were  a  chapel-going  peo- 
ple, very  critical  about  the  doctrine  of  their  sermons,  tyran- 
nical to  their  ministers,  and  violent  Radicals  in  politics. 
A  friend,  well  acquainted  with  the  place  when  Charlotte 
Bronte  was  at  school,  has  described  some  events  which  oc- 
curred then  among  them  : — 

^A  scene,  which  took  place  at  the  Lower  Chapel,  at 
Heckmondwike,  will  give  you  some  idea  of  the  people  at 
that  time.  When  a  newly  married  couple  made  their  ap- 
pearance at  chapel,  it  was  the  custom  to  sing  the  Wedding 
Anthem,  just  after  the  last  prayer,  and  as  the  congregation 
was  quitting  the  chapel.  The  band  of  singers  who  per- 
formed this  ceremony  expected  to  have  money  given  them, 
and  often  passed  the  following  night  in  drinking;  at 
least  so  said  the  minister  of  the  place  ;  and  he  determined 
to  put  an  end  to  this  custom.    In  this  he  was  supported  by 

'  Roe  Head  is  more  than  two  miles  from  Heckmondwike. 


118  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


many  members  of  the  chapel  and  congregation ;  but  so 
strong  was  the  democratic  element,  that  he  met  with  the 
most  violent  opposition  and  was  often  insulted  when  he 
went  into  the  street.  A  bride  was  expected  to  make  her 
first  appearance,  and  the  minister  told  the  singers  not  to 
perform  the  anthem.  On  their  declaring  they  would  he 
had  the  large  pew  which  they  usually  occupied  locked  ; 
they  broke  it  open.  From  the  pulpit  he  told  the  congrega- 
tion that,  instead  of  their  singing  a  hymn,  he  would  read  a 
chapter  ;  hardly  had  he  uttered  the  first  word,  before  up 
rose  the  singers,  headed  by  a  tall,  fierce  -  looking  weaver, 
who  gave  out  a  hymn,  and  all  sang  it  at  the  very  top  of 
their  voices,  aided  by  those  of  their  friends  who  were  in 
the  chapel.  Those  who  disapproved  of  the  conduct  of  the 
singers,  and  sided  with  the  minister,  remained  seated  till  the 
hymn  was  finished.  Then  he  gave  out  the  chapter  again, 
read  it,  and  preached.  He  was  just  about  to  conclude  with 
prayer,  when  up  started  the  singers  and  screamed  forth 
another  hymn.  These  disgraceful  scenes  were  continued 
for  many  weeks,  and  so  violent  was  the  feeling  that  the 
different  parties  could  hardly  keep  from  blows  as  they  came 
through  the  chapel  -  yard.  The  minister,  at  last,  left  the 
place,  and  along  with  him  went  many  of  the  most  tem- 
perate and  respectable  part  of  the  congregation,  and  the 
singers  remained  triumphant. 

believe  that  there  was  such  a  violent  contest  respect- 
ing the  choice  of  a  pastor,  about  this  time,  in  the  Upper 
Chapel  at  Heckmondwike,  that  the  Riot  Act  had  to  be  read 
at  a  church  meeting.^  ^ 

Certainly,  the  soi-disant  Christians  who  forcibly  ejected 
Mr.  Redhead  at  Haworth  ten  or  twelve  years  before,  held 
a  very  heathen  brotherhood  with  the  soi-disant  Christians 
of  Heckmondwike,  though  the  one  set  might  be  called 

*  This  story  was  very  much  resented  by  the  Heckmondwike  Non- 
conformists. Mr.  J.  J.  Stead,  of  Heckmondwike,  informs  me  that  the 
pastor  of  the  Upper  Chapel  was  elected  in  1828  by  an  unanimous  vote, 
and  he  remained  there  until  his  death  in  1862. 


1832  THE  HECKMONDWIKE  LECTURE'  119 

( 

members  of  the  Church  of  England  and  the  other  Dis- 
senters. 

The  letter  from  which  I  have  taken  the  above  extract 
relates  throughout  to  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the 
place  where  Charlotte  Bronte  wpent  her  school-days,  and 
describes  things  as  they  existed  -at  that  very  time.  The 
writer  says,  ^Having  been  accustomed  to  the  respectful 
manners  of  the  lower  orders  in  the  agricultural  districts,  I 
was,  at  first,  much  disgusted  and  somewhat  alarmed  at  the 
great  freedom  displayed  by  the  working  classes  of  Heck- 
mondwike  and  Gomersal  to  those  in  a  station  above  them. 
The  term  ^^lass^^  was  as  freely  applied  to  any  young  lady 
as  the  word  wench  is  in  Lancashire.  The  extremely 
untidy  appearance  of  the  villagers  shocked  me  not  a  little, 
though  I  must  do  the  housewives  the  justice  to  say  that  the 
cottages  themselves  were  not  dirty,  and  had  an  air  of  rough 
plenty  about  them  (except  when  trade  was  bad),  that  I  had 
not  been  accustomed  to  see  in  the  farming  districts.  The 
heap  of  coals  on  one  side  of  the  house  door,  and  the  brewing 
tubs  on  the  other,  and  the  frequent  perfume  of  malt  and 
hops  as  you  walked  along,  proved  that  fire  and  home- 
brewed were  to  be  found  at  almost  every  man's  hearth. 
Nor  was  hospitality,  one  of  the  main  virtues  of  Yorkshire, 
wanting.  Oat  cake,  cheese,  and  beer  were  freely  pressed 
upon  the  visitor. 

^  There  used  to  be  a  yearly  festival,  half  religious,  half 
social,  held  at  Heckmondwike,  called     The  Lecture.^' »  I 

*  This  *  Lecture '  is  still  contiaued,  and  is  held  on  the  Tuesday  and 
Wednesday  after  the  second  Sunday  in  June.  It  was  started  in  1761 
by  the  Rev.  James  Scott,  then  Congregational  minister  at  Heckmond- 
wike, who  had  inaugurated  an  Academy  for  the  training  of  ministers, 
which  was  the  nucleus  of  the  Airedale  and  the  Rotherham  Colleges, 
now  the  United  Independent  College,  Bradford.  Finding  himself  an- 
noyed by  the  interruptions  caused  by  the  frequent  visits  of  the  friends 
and  relatives  of  the  students,  he  decided  to  appoint  one  day  in  the 
year,  and  provided  a  plain  dinner  for  them  ;  and,  in  order  that  they 
might  be  profitably  entertained,  he  secured  some  noted  preacher  to 
give  a  lecture  or  conduct  a  service,  which  institution  has  continued 


/20  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

fancy  it  had  come  down  from  the  times  of  the  Nonconform- 
ists. A  sermon  was  preached  b)''  some  stranger  at  the 
Lower  Chapel  on  a  week-day  evening,  and  the  next  day 
two  sermons  in  succession  were  delivered  at  the  Upper 
Chapel.  Of  course  the  service  was  a  very  long  one,  and  as 
the  time  was  June,  and  the  weather  often  hot,  it  used  to 
be  regarded  by  myself  and  my  companions  as  no  pleasura- 
ble way  of  passing  the  morning.  The  rest  of  the  day  was 
spent  in  social  enjoyment;  great  numbers  of  strangers 
flocked  to  the  place ;  booths  were  erected  for  the  sale  of  toys 
and  gingerbread  (a  sort  of  Holy  Fair  ;  and  the  cot- 
tages, having  had  a  little  extra  paint  and  whitewashing,  as- 
sumed quite  a  holiday  look. 

^The  village  of  GomersaP  (where  Charlotte  Bronte's 
friend  ^Mary'  lived  with  her  family),  ^  which  was  a  much 
prettier  place  than  Heckmondwike,  contained  a  strange- 
looking  cottage,  built  of  rough  unhewn  stones,  many  of 
them  projecting  considerably,  with  uncouth  heads  and 
grinning  faces  carved  upon  them  ;  and  upon  a  stone  above 
the  door  was  cut,  in  large  letters,  Spite  Hall."'  It  was 
erected  by  a  man  in  the  village,  opposite  to  the  house  of 
his  enemy,  who  had  just  finished  for  himself  a  good  house, 
commanding  a  beautiful  view  down  the  valley,  which  this 
hideous  building  quite  shut  out.' 

Fearless — because  this  people  were  quite  familiar  to  all 
of  them — amidst  such  a  population,  lived  and  walked  the 
gentle  Miss  Wooler's  eight  or  nine  pupils.  She  herself 
was  born  and  bred  among  this  rough,  strong,  fierce  set,  and 
knew  the  depth  of  goodness  and  loyalty  that  lay  beneath 

unto  this  day.  Now  there  are  services  at  the  three  large  Congrega- 
tional chapels  in  the  town.  On  the  Tuesday  evening  two  sermons  are 
preached  at  Westgate  (formerly  Lower)  Chapel  ;  next  morning  two 
at  the  Upper  Chapel,  and  in  the  evening  one  at  George  Street  Chapel, 
the  services  being  attended  by  ministers  and  people  of  all  denomina- 
tions, who  come  from  miles  around;  and  the  chapels  are  packed  to 
their  utmost  capacity,  for  the  preachers  are  generally  the  leading  men 
of  the  day. 


1832         THE  HECKMONDWIKE  *  LECTURE'  121 


their  wild  manners  and  insubordinate  ways.  And  the  girls 
talked  of  the  little  world  around  them,  as  if  it  were  the 
only  world  that  was  ;  and  had  their  opinions  and  their 
parties,  and  their  fierce  discussions  like  their  elders — pos- 
sibly their  betters.  And  amon>g  them,  beloved  and  re- 
spected by  all,  laughed  at  occasioilally  by  a  few,  but  always 
to  her  face,  lived,  for  a  year  and  a  half,  the  plain,  short- 
sighted, oddly  dressed,  studious  little  girl  they  called 
Charlotte  Bronte. 


CHAPTER  VII 


Miss  Bkokte  left  Roe  Head  in  1832,  having  won  the  af- 
fectionate  regard  both  of  her  teacher  and  her  schoolfellows, 
and  having  formed  there  the  two  fast  friendships  which 
lasted  her  whole  life  long ;  the  one  with  ^  Mary/  who  has 
not  kept  her  letters  ;  the  other  with  ^  E./  ^  who  has  kindly 
intrusted  me  with  a  large  portion  of  Miss  Bronte's  corre- 
'  spondence  with  her.  This  she  has  been  induced  to  do  by 
her  knowledge  of  the  urgent  desire  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Bronte  that  the  life  of  his  daughter  should  be  written,  and 
in  compliance  with  a  request  from  her  husband  that  I 
should  be  permitted  to  have  the  use  of  these  letters,  with- 
out which  such  a  task  could  be  but  very  imperfectly  exe- 
cuted. In  order  to  shield  this  friend,  however,  from  any 
blame  Or  misconstruction,  it  is  only  right  to  state  that,  be- 
fore granting  me  this  privilege,  she  throughout  most  care- 
fully and  completely  effaced  the  names  of  the  persons  and 
places  which  occurred  in  them ;  and  also  that  such  infor- 
mation as  I  have  obtained  from  her  bears  reference  solely 
to  Miss  Bronte  and  her  sisters,  and  not  to  any  other  in- 
dividuals whom  I  may  find  it  necessary  to  allude  to  in 
connection  with  them. 

In  looking  over  the  earlier  portion  of  this  correspond- 
ence I  am  struck  afresh  by  the  absence  of  hope,  which 
formed  such  a  strong  characteristic  in  Charlotte.  At  an 
age  when  girls,  in  general,  look  forward  to  an  eternal 

*  *E.'  as  has  been  said,  was  Ellen  Nussey,  whom  it  will  be  more 
convenient  henceforth  to  refer  to  as  *  Ellen.'  She  received  altogether 
about  five  hundred  letters  from  Charlotte  BrontS  and  two  from  Emily. 
See  p.  101. 


1832  LIFE  AT  THE  PARSONAGE 


123 


duration  of  such  feelings  as  they  or  their  friends  enter- 
tain^ and  can  therefore  see  no  hindrance  to  the  fulfilment 
of  any  engagements  dependent  on  the  future  state  of  the 
affections,  she  is  surprised  that  Ellen  keeps  her  promise  to 
write.  In  after-life  I  was  painfully  impressed  with  the 
fact,  that  Miss  Bronte  never  dared  to  allow  herself  to  look 
forward  with  hope  ;  that  she  had  no  confidence  in  the 
future  ;  and  I  thought,  when  I  heard  of  the  sorrowful 
years  she  had  passed  through,  that  it  had  been  this  press- 
ure of  grief  which  had  crushed  all  buoyancy  of  expecta- 
tion out  of  her.  But  it  appears  from  the  letters  that  it 
must  have  been,  so  to  speak,  constitutional ;  or,  perhaps, 
the  deep  pang  of  losing  her  two  elder  sisters  combined  with 
a  permanent  state  of  bodily  weakness  in  producing  her  hope- 
lessness. If  her  trust  in  God  had  been  less  strong,  she 
would  have  given  way  to  unbounded  anxiety  at  many  a 
period  of  her  life.  As  it  was,  we  shall  see,  she  made  a 
great  and  successful  effort  to  leave  ^her  times  in  His 
hands.^ 

After  her  return  home  she  employed  herself  in  teach- 
ing her  sisters,  over  whom  she  had  had  superior  advan- 
tages. She  writes  thus,  July  21,  1832,  of  her  course  of 
life  at  the  parsonage  : — 

^  An  account  of  one  day  is  an  account  of  all.  In  the 
morning,  from  nine  o'clock  till  half-past  twelve,  I  instruct 
my  sisters,  and  draw;  then  we  walk  till  dinner  time. 
After  dinner  I  sew  till  tea  time,  and  after  tea  I  either 
write,  read,  or  do  a  little  fancy  work,  or  draw,  as  I  please. 
Thus,  in  one  delightful,  though  somewhat  monotonous 
course  my  life  is  passed.  I  have  been  out  only  twice  to 
tea  since  I  came  home.  We  are  expecting  company  this 
afternoon,  and  on  Tuesday  next  we  shall  have  all  the  fe- 
male teachers  of  the  Sunday  school  to  tea.^^ 

*  This  letter  concludes  : — 

*  I  do  hope,  my  dearest  Ellen,  that  you  will  return  to  school  again  for 
your  own  sake,  though  for  mine  I  would  rather  that  you  would  remain  at 
home,  as  we  shall  then  have  more  frequent  opportunities  for  correspond- 


124  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


I  may  here  introduce  a  quotation  from  a  letter  which  I 
have  received  from  *Mary^  since  the  publication  of  the 
previous  editions  of  this  memoir. 

'  Soon  after  leaving  school  she  admitted  reading  some- 
thing of  OobbettV.  She  did  not  like  him,"  she  said ;  ^^but 
all  was  fish  that  came  to  her  net."  At  this  time  she  wrote 
to  me  that  reading  and  drawing  were  the  only  amusements 
she  had,  and  that  her  supply  of  books  was  very  small  in 
proportion  to  her  wants.  She  never  spoke  of  her  aunt. 
When  I  saw  Miss  Branwell  she  was  a  very  precise  person, 
and  looked  very  odd,  because  her  dress,  &c.,  was  so  ut- 
terly out  of  fashion.  She  corrected  one  of  us  once  for 
using  the  word  '^spit"  for  spitting."  She  made  a  great 
favourite  of  Branwell.  She  made  her  nieces  sew,  with 
purpose  or  without,  and  as  far  as  possible  discouraged 
any  other  culture.  She  used  to  keep  the  girls  sewing 
charity  clothing,  and  maintained  to  me  that  it  was  not 
for  the  good  of  the  recipients,  but  of  the  sewers.  ^*  It 
was  proper  for  them  to  do  it,"  she  said.  Charlotte  never 
was  ^^in  wild  excitement"  that  I  know  of.  When  in 
health  she  used  to  talk  better,  and  indeed  when  in  low 
spirits  never  spoke  at  all.    She  needed  her  best  spirits 

euce  with  each  other.  Should  your  friends  decide  against  your  returning 
to  school,  I  know  you  have  too  much  good  sense  and  right  feeling  not  to 
strive  earnestly  for  your  own  improvement.  Your  natural  abilities 
are  excellent,  and  under  the  direction  of  a  judicious  and  able  friend 
(and  I  know  you  have  many  such)  you  might  acquire  a  decided  taste 
for  elegant  literature,  and  even  poetry,  which,  indeed,  is  included  un- 
der that  general  term.  I  was  very  much  disappointed  by  your  not 
sending  the  hair ;  you  may  be  sure,  my  dearest  Ellen,  that  I  would 
not  grudge  double  postage  to  obtain  it,  but  I  must  offer  the  same 
excuse  for  not  sending  you  any.  My  aunt  and  sisters  desire  their  love 
to  you.  Remember  me  kindly  to  your  mother  and  sisters,  and  accept 
all  the  fondest  expressions  of  genuine  attachment  from  your  real 
friend,  Chaklotte  Bronte. 

'  P.S.—- Remember  the  mutual  promise  we  made  of  a  regular  corre- 
spondence with  each  other.  Excuse  all  faults  in  this  wretched  scrawl. 
Give  my  love  to  the  Miss  Taylors  when  you  see  them.  Farewell,  my 
deaVy  dea/r,  dear  EUeiL,' 


1832  LIFE  AT  THE  PARSONAGE  125 


to  say  what  was  in  her  heart,  for  at  other  times  she  had 
not  courage.  She  never  gave  decided  opinions  at  such 
times.  .  .  . 

'  Charlotte  said  she  could  get  on  with  any  one  who  had 
a  bump  at  the  top  of  their  heads  (meaning  conscientious- 
ness). I  found  that  I  seldom  differed  from  her,  except 
that  she  was  far  too  tolerant  of  stupid  people,  if  they  had 
a  grain  of  kindness  in  them.' 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Mr.  Bronte  provided  his 
children  with  a  teacher  in  drawing,  who  turned  out  to  be 
a  man  of  considerable  talent,  but  very  little  principle.* 
Although  they  never  attained  to  anything  like  proficiency, 
they  took  great  interest  in  acquiring  this  art ;  evidently, 
from  an  instinctive  desire  to  express  powerful  imagina- 
tions in  visible  forms.'  Charlotte  told  me  that,  at  this  pe- 
riod of  her  life,  drawing,  and  walking  out  with  her  sisters, 
formed  the  two  great  pleasures  and  relaxations  of  her 
day. 

The  three  girls  used  to  walk  upwards  toward  the  ^  purple- 
black  '  moors,  the  sweeping  surface  of  which  was  broken 
by  here  and  there  a  stone  quarry ;  and  if  they  had  strength 
and  time  to  go  far  enough  they  reached  a  waterfall,  where 
the  beck  fell  over  some  rocks  into  the  *  bottom.'  They 
seldom  went  downwards  through  the  village.  They  were 
shy  of  meeting  even  familiar  faces,  and  were  scrupulous 
about  entering  the  house  of  the  very  poorest  uninvited. 
They  were  steady  teachers  at  the  Sunday  school,  a  habit 

*  This  was  William  Robinson,  a  native  of  Leeds,  who  had  attained 
to  some  success  as  a  portrait  painter.  According  to  Leyland  {The 
Bronte  Family)  Robinson  painted  four  portraits  for  the  United  Ser- 
vice Club.  He  was  for  a  short  time  a  pupil  of  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence, 
and  afterwards  of  Fuseli.  He  died  in  Leeds  in  1839.  His  friends  re- 
sented the  statement  in  the  text  as  to  his  lack  of  principle, 

*  Charlotte  BrontS  materially  injured  her  eyesight,  necessitating  the 
wearing  of  spectacles,  by  her  laborious  efforts  at  copying  old  line 
engravings.  Many  of  these  minute  copies  are  still  extant.  Branwell 
told  George  Searle  Phillips  (the  Mirror^  1872)  that  his  sister  had  spent 
six  months  over  one  of  these  copies. 


126 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


which  Charlotte  kept  np  very  faithfully,  even  after  she  was 
left  alone ;  but  they  never  faced  their  kind  voluntarily, 
and  always  preferred  the  solitude  and  freedom  of  the 
moors. 

In  the  September  of  this  year  Charlotte  went  to-  pay  her 
first  visit  to  her  friend  Ellen.  It  took  her  into  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Roe  Head,  and  brought  her  into  pleasant  con- 
tact with  many  of  her  old  schoolfellows.^  After  this  visit 
she  and  her  friend  seem  to  have  agreed  to  correspond  in 
French,  for  the  sake  of  improvement  in  the  language.  But 
this  improvement  could  not  be  great,  when  it  could  only 
amount  to  a  greater  familiarity  with  dictionary  words,  and 
when  there  was  no  one  to  explain  to-  them  that  a  verbal 
translation  of  English  idioms  hardly  constituted  French 
composition ;  but  the  effort  was  laudable,  and  of  itself 
shows  how  willing  they  both  were  to  carry  on  the  educa- 
tion which  they  had  begun^  under  Miss  Wooler.  I  will 
give  an  extract  which,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  the 
language,  is  graphic  enough,  and  presents  us  with  a  happy 
little  family  picture  ;  the  eldest  sister  returning  home  to 
the  two  younger,  after  a  fortnight's  absence. 

^  J^arrivait  a  Haworth  en  parfaite  sauvete  sans  le  moin- 
dre  accident  ou  malheur.  Mes  petites  soeurs  couraient  hors 
de  la  maison  pour  me  rencontrer  aussitot  que  la  voiture  se 
fit  voir,  et  elles  m^embrassaient  avec  autant  d^empressement 
et  de  plaisir  comme  si  j^avais  6te  absente  pour  plus  d^an. 
Mon  Papa,  ma  Tante,  et  le  monsieur  dont  mon  frere  avoit 
parle,  furent  tons  assembles  dans  le  Salon,  et  en  pen  de 
temps  je  m'y  rendis  aussi.  C'est  souvent  Fordre  du  Ciel 
que  quand  on  a  perdu  un  plaisir  il  y  en  a  un  autre  pret  h 
prendre  sa  place.  Ainsi  je  venois  de  partir  de  tr^s  chers 
amis,  mais  tout  a  Fheure  je  revins  a  des  parens  aussi  chers 
et  bon  dans  le  moment.  Meme  que  vous  me  perdiez  (ose-je 
croire  que  mon  depart  vous  6tait  un  chagrin  ?)  vous  atten- 
dites  I'arrivee  de  votre  frdre,  et  de  votre  soeur.    J'ai  donn6 

*  This  was  at  The  R3^dings,  where  Ellen  Nussey  was  staying  with 
an  elder  brother. 


LIBRARY 

OF  IHE 

iNlVtRSlTY  of  ILLINOIS 


1832 


BOOKS  AT  THE  PARSONAGE 


127 


a  mes  soeurs  les  pommes  que  vons  leur  envoyiez  avec  tant 
de  bonte  ;  elles  disent  qu^elles  sont  stir  que  Mademoiselle 
E.  est  tres  aimable  et  bonne ;  Tune  et  Tautre  sont  extreme- 
ment  impatientes  de  vous  voir;  j^espere  qu'en  pen  de  mois 
elles  auront  ce  plaisir/ 

But  it  was  some  time  yet  before  the  friends  could  meet, 
and  meanwhile  they  agreed  to  correspond  once  a  month. 
There  were  no  events  to  chronicle  in  the  Haworth  let- 
ters. Quiet  days,  occupied  in  teaching,  and  feminine 
occupations  in  the  house,  did  not  present  much  to  write 
about ;  and  Charlotte  was  naturally  driven  to  criticise 
books. 

Of  these  there  were  many  in  different  plights,  and,  ac- 
cording to  their  plight,  kept  in  different  places.  The  well- 
bound  were  ranged  in  the  sanctuary  of  Mr.  Bronte's  study ; 
but  the  purchase  of  books  was  a  necessary  luxury  to  him, 
but  as  it  was  often  a  choice  between  binding  an  old  one  and 
buying  a  new  one,  the  familiar  volume,  which  had  been 
hungrily  read  by  all  the  members  of  the  family,  was  some- 
times in  such  a  condition  that  the  bedroom  shelf  was  con- 
sidered its  fitting  place.  Up  and  down  the  house  were  to 
be  found  many  standard  works  of  a  solid  kind.  Sir  Walter 
Scott^s  writing,  Wordsworth^s  and  Southey^s  poems  were 
among  the  lighter  literature ;  while,  as  having  a  character 
of  their  own — earnest,  wild,  and  occasionally  fanatical — 
may  be  named  some  of  the  books  which  came  from  the 
Branwell  side  of  the  family — from  the  Cornish  followers  of 
the  saintly  John  Wesley — and  which  are  touched  on  in 
the  account  of  the  works  to  which  Caroline  Helstone  had 
access  in  ^Shirley  — ^Some  venerable  Lady's  Magazines, 
that  had  once  performed  a  voyage  with  their  owner,  and 
undergone  a  storm '  (possibly  part  of  the  relics  of  Mrs. 
Bronte's  possessions,  contained  in  the  ship  wrecked  on  the 
coast  of  Cornwall),  ^and  whose  pages  were  stained  with 
salt  water ;  some  mad  Methodist  Magazines  full  of  mira- 
cles and  apparitions  and  preternatural  warnings,  ominous 
dreams,  and  frenzied  fanaticisms ;  and  the  equally  mad 


128 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


letters  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Rowe  from  the  Dead  to  the 
Living/* 

Mr.  Bronte  encouraged  a  taste  for  reading  in  his  girls ; 
and  though  Miss  Branwell  kept  it  in  due  bounds,  by  the 
variety  of  household  occupations,  in  which  she  expected 
them  not  merely  to  take  a  part,  but  to  become  proficients, 
thereby  occupying  regularly  a  good  portion  of  every  day, 
they  were  allowed  to  get  books  from  the  circulating  library 
at  Keighley ;  and  many  a  happy  walk  up  those  long  four 
miles  must  they  have  had,  burdened  with  some  new  book, 
into  which  they  peeped  as  they  hurried  home.  Not  that 
the  books  were  what  would  generally  be  called  new  ;  in  the 
beginning  of  1833  the  two  friends  seem  almost  simulta- 
neously to  have  fallen  upon  '  Kenilworth,"  and  Charlotte 
writes  as  follows  about  it : — 

'  I  am  glad  you  like  Kenilworth  it  is  certainly  more 
resembling  a  romance  than  a  novel :  in  my  opinion,  one  of 
the  most  interesting  works  that  ever  emanated  from  the 
great  Sir  Walter's  pen.  Varney  is  certainly  the  personifi- 
cation of  consummate  villany ;  and  in  the  delineation  of 
his  dark  and  profoundly  artful  mind  Scott  exhibits  a  won- 
derful knowledge  of  human  nature,  as  well  as  a  surprising 
skill  in  embodying  his  perceptions,  so  as  to  enable  other 
to  become  participators  in  that  knowledge.' 

^  Four  books  that  are  extant  beloDging  to  an  earlier  period  than  this 
are — 

I.  The  Imitation  of  Christ,  inscribed  *M.  Branwell,*  to  which  refer- 
ence has  already  been  made.    See  p.  56,  note. 

IL  ScotVs  Tales  of  a  Qrandfather,  1828,  3  vols.,  and  inscribed  i 
Miss  Branwell's  handwriting — 

*  These  'oolumes  were  written  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  the  Hugh  Liti 
John  mentioned  in  them  is  Master  Lockhart,  grandson  to  Sir  Walter. 

*  A  New  Year*s  Gift  by  Miss  E.  B.  to  her  dear  little  nepJcew  and  ni 
Patrick,  Charlotte,  Emily,  and  Anne  Bronte,  1828.* 

III.  Goldsmith's  Essays  and  Poems,  1824,  1  vol.,  inscribed — 

*  French  Prize,  adjudged  to  Miss  Bronte,  and  presented  with  the  Mi 
Wooler's  kind  love.* 

IV.  The  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  1823,  inscribed — 
'Miss  Outhwaiie  to  her  goddaughter  Anne  Bronte,  Feb.  13,  1827.' 


1833       *  ELLEN'S'  VISIT  AT  THE  PARSONAGE  129 


Commonplace  as  this  extract  may  seem,  it  is  noteworthy 
on  two  or  three  accounts  :  in  the  first  place,  instead  of 
discussing  the  plot  or  story,  she  analyses  the  character  of 
Varney;  and  next,  she,  knowing  nothing  of  the  world,  both 
from  her  youth  and  her  isolated  position,  has  yet  been  so  ac- 
customed to  hear  ^ human  nature^  distrusted  as  to  receive 
the  notion  of  intense  and  artful  villainy  without  surprise. 

What  was  formal  and  set  in  her  way  of  writing  to  '  El- 
len^ diminished  as  their  personal  acquaintance  increased, 
and  as  each  came  to  know  the  home  of  the  other ;  so  that 
small  details  concerning  people  and  places  had  their  interest 
and  their  significance.  In  the  summer  of  1833  she  wrote 
to  invite  her  friend  to  come  and  pay  her  a  visit.  ^Aunt 
thought  it  would  be  better,^  she  says,  Ho  defer  it  until  about 
the  middle  of  summer,  as  the  winter,  and  even  the  spring  sea- 
sons, are  remarkably  cold  and  bleak  among  our  mountains.'' 

The  first  impression  made  on  the  visitor  by  the  sisters  of 
her  school  friend  was,  that  Emily  was  a  tall,  long-armed 
girl,  more  fully  grown  than  her  elder  sister ;  extremely 
reserved  in  manner.  I  distinguish  reserve  from  shyness, 
because  I  imagine  shyness  would  please,  if  it  knew  how  ; 
whereas  reserve  is  indifferent  whether  it  pleases  or  not. 
Anne,  like  her  eldest  sister,  was  shy ;  Emily  was  reserved. 

Branwell  was  rather  a  handsome  boy,  with  '  tawny '  hair, 
to  use  Miss  Bronte's  phrase  for  a  more  obnoxious  colour. 
All  were  very  clever,  original,  and  utterly  different  from 
any  people  or  family  ^  Ellen'  had  ever  seen  before.  But,  on 
the  whole,  it  was  a  happy  visit  to  all  parties.  Charlotte 
says,  in  writing  to  ^ Ellen'  just  after  her  return  home, 
^  Were  I  to  tell  you  of  the  impression  you  have  made  on 
every  one  here,  you  would  accuse  me  of  flattery.  Papa 
and  aunt  are  continually  adducing  you  as  an  example  for 
me  to  shape  my  actions  and  behaviour  by.  Emily  and 
Anne  say  they  never  saw  any  one  they  liked  so  well  as 
you."  And  Tabby,  whom  you  have  absolutely  fascinated, 
talks  a  great  deal  more  nonsense  about  your  ladyship  than 
I  care  to  repeat.  It  is  now  so  dark  that,  notwithstanding 
9 


130  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


the  singular  property  of  seeing  in  the  night-time^  which  the 
young  ladies  at  Roe  Head  used  to  attribute  to  me,  I  can 
scribble  no  longer.' 

To  a  visitor  at  the  parsonage  it  was  a  great  thing  to  have 
Tabby's  good  word.  She  had  a  Yorkshire  keenness  of  per- 
ception into  character,  and  it  was  not  everybody  she  liked. 

Haworth  is  built  with  an  utter  disregard  of  all  sanitary 
conditions  :  the  great  old  churchyard  lies  above  all  the 
houses,  and  it  is  terrible  to  think  how  the  very  water- 
springs  of  the  pumps  below  must  be  poisoned.  But  this 
winter  of  1833-4  was  particularly  wet  and  rainy,  and  there 
were  an  unusual  number  of  deaths  in  the  village.  A 
dreary  season  it  was  to  the  family  in  the  parsonage  :  their 
usual  walks  obstructed  by  the  spongy  state  of  the  moors 
— the  passing  and  funeral  bells  so  frequently  tolling,  and 
filling  the  heavy  air  with  their  mournful  sound — and,  when 
they  were  still,  the  ^  chip,  chip '  of  the  mason,  as  he  cut  the 
grave-stones  in  a  shed  close  by.  In  many,  living,  as  it  were, 
in  a  churchyard,  and  with  all  the  sights  and  sounds  con- 
nected with  the  last  offices  to  the  dead  things  of  everyday 
occurrence,  the  very  familiarity  would  have  bred  indiffer- 
ence. But  it  was  otherwise  with  Charlotte  Bronte.  One 
of  her  friends  says,  ^  I  have  seen  her  turn  pale  and  feel  faint 
when,  in  Hartshead  church,  some  one  accidentally  remarked 
that  we  were  walking  over  graves.  Charlotte  was  certainly 
afraid  of  death.  Not  only  of  dead  bodies,  or  dying  people. 
She  dreaded  it  as  something  horrible.  She  thought  we  did 
not  know  how  long  the  moment  of  dissolution"  might 
really  be,  or  how  terrible.  This  was  just  such  a  terror  as 
only  hypochondriacs  can  provide  for  themselves.  She  told 
me  long  ago  that  a  misfortune  was  often  preceded  by  the 
dream  frequently  repeated  which  she  gives  to  Jane  Eyre/' 
of  carrying  a  little  wailing  child,  and  being  unable  to  still 
it.  She  described  herself  as  having  the  most  painful  sense 
of  pity  for  the  little  thing,  lying  inert,  as  sick  children  do, 
while  she  walked  about  in  some  gloomy  place  with  it,  such 
as  the  aisle  of  Haworth  church.    The  misfortunes  she  men- 


1834 


ON  A  VISIT  TO  LONDON 


131 


tioned  were  not  always  to  herself.  She  thought  such  sensi- 
tiveness to  omens  was  like  the  cholera^  present  to  susceptible 
people — some  feeling  more^  some  less/ 

About  the  beginning  of  1834  ^  Ellen  ^  went  to  London  for 
the  first  time.  The  idea  of  her  friend^s  visit  seems  to  have 
stirred  Charlotte  strangely.  She  appears  to  have  formed 
her  notions  of  its  probable  consequences  from  some  of  the 
papers  in  the  ^  British  Essayists/  the  ^  Rambler/  the  ^  Mir- 
ror/ or  the  ^  Lounger/ which  may  have  been  among  the 
English  classics  on  the  parsonage  book-shelves  ;  for  she  evi- 
dently imagines  that  an  entire  change  of  character  for  the 
worse  is  the  usual  effect  of  a  visit  to  ^  the  great  metropolis/ 
and  is  delighted  to  find  that  '  Ellen  '  is  '  Ellen '  still.  And, 
as  her  faith  in  her  friend's  stability  is  restored,  her  own 
imagination  is  deeply  moved  by  the  idea  of  what  great  won- 
ders are  to  be  seen  in  that  vast  and  famous  city. 

'Haworth:  February  20,  1834. 
'Your  letter  gave  me  real  and  heartfelt  pleasure,  min- 
gled with  no  small  share  of  astonishment.  Mary  had  pre- 
viously informed  me  of  your  departure  for  London,  and 
I  had  not  ventured  to  calculate  on  any  communication 
from  you  while  surrounded  by  the  splendours  and  novelties 
of  that  great  city,  which  has  been  called  the  mercantile 
metropolis  of  Europe.  Judging  from  human  nature,  I 
thought  that  a  little  country  girl,  for  the  first  time  in  a  situa- 
tion so  well  calculated  to  excite  curiosity  and  to  distract 
attention,  would  lose  all  remembrance,  for  a  time  at  least, 
of  distant  and  familiar  objects,  and  give  herself  up  entirely 
to  the  fascination  of  those  scenes  which  were  then  pre- 
sented to  her  view.  Your  kind,  interesting,  and  most 
welcome  epistle  showed  me,  however,  that  I  had  been  both 
mistaken  and  uncharitable  in  these  suppositions.  I  was 
greatly  amused  at  the  tone  of  nonchalance  which  you 
assumed  while  treating  of  London  and  its  wonders.  Did 
you  not  feel  awed  while  gazing  at  St.  Paul's  and  Westmin- 
ster Abbey  ?    Had  you  no  feeling  of  intense  and  ardent  in- 


132 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


terest  when  in  St.  James's  you  saw  the  palace  where  so 
many  of  England's  kings  have  held  their  courts,  and  beheld 
the  representations  of  their  persons  on  the  walls  ?  You 
should  not  be  too  much  afraid  of  appearing  country-lred; 
the  magnificence  of  London  has  drawn  exclamations  of 
astonishment  from  travelled  men,  experienced  in  the  world, 
its  wonders  and  beauties.  Have  you  yet  seen  anything  of 
the  great  personages  whom  the  sitting  of  Parliament  now 
detains  in  London — the  Duke  of  Wellington,  Sir  Robert 
Peel,  Earl  Grey,  Mr.  Stanley,  Mr.  O'Connell  ?  If  I  were 
you,  I  would  not  be  too  anxious  to  spend  my  time  in  read- 
ing whilst  in  town.  Make  use  of  your  own  eyes  for  the 
purposes  of  observation  now,  and,  for  a  time  at  least,  lay 
aside  the  spectacles  with  which  authors  would  furnish  us.' 
In  a  postscript  she  adds — 

^  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  inform  me  of  the  number 
of  performers  in  the  King's  military  band  T 

And  in  something  of  the  same  strain  she  writes  on 

*  June  19. 

^  My  own  dear  Ellen, — I  may  rightfully  and  truly  call 
you  so  now.  You  have  returned  or  are  returning  from 
London — from  the  great  city  which  is  to  me  as  apocryphal 
as  Babylon,  or  Nineveh,  or  ancient  Rome.  You  are  with- 
drawing from  the  world  (as  it  is  called),  and  bringing  with 
you — if  your  letters  enable  me  to  form  a  correct  judgment 
— a  heart  as  unsophisticated,  as  natural,  as  true,  as  that 
you  carried  there.  I  am  slow,  very  slow,  to  believe  the 
protestations  of  another  ;  I  know  my  own  sentiments,  I  can 
read  my  own  mind,  but  the  minds  of  the  rest  of  man  and 
woman  kind  are  to  me  sealed  volumes,  hieroglyphical  scrolls, 
which  I  cannot  easily  either  unseal  or  decipher.  Yet  time, 
careful  study,  long  acquaintance,  overcome  most  difficul- 
ties ;  and,  in  your  case,  I  think  they  have  succeeded  well 
in  bringing  to  light  and  construing  that  hidden  language, 
whose  turnings,  windings,  inconsistencies,  and  obscurities 
so  frequently  baffle  the  researches  of  the  honest  observer 


1834 


ON  A  VISIT  TO  LONDON 


133 


of  human  nature.  ...  I  am  truly  grateful  for  your  mind- 
fulness of  so  obscure  a  person  as  myself,  and  I  hope  the 
pleasure  is  not  altogether  selfish  ;  I  trust  it  is  partly  de- 
rived from  the  consciousness  that  my  friend's  character  is 
of  a  higher,  a  more  steadfast  order  than  I  was  once  perfectly 
aware  of.  Few  girls  would  have  done  as  you  have  done — 
would  have  beheld  the  glare,  and  glitter,  and  dazzling  dis- 
play of  London  with  dispositions  so  unchanged,  hearts  so 
uncontaminated.  I  see  no  affectation  in  your  letters,  no 
trifling,  no  frivolous  contempt  of  plain  and  weak  admira- 
tion of  showy  persons  and  things.' 

In  these  days  of  cheap  railway  trips,  we  may  smile  at 
the  idea  of  a  short  visit  to  London  having  any  great  effect 
upon  the  character,  whatever  it  may  have  upon  the  intel- 
lect. But  her  London  —  her  great  apocryphal  city  —  was 
the  '  town"  of  a  century  before,  to  which  giddy  daughters 
dragged  unwilling  papas,  or  went  with  injudicious  friends, 
to  the  detriment  of  all  their  better  qualities,  and  some- 
times to  the  ruin  of  their  fortunes  ;  it  was  the  Vanity  Fair 
of  the  ^  Pilgrim's  Progress '  to  her. 

But  see  the  just  and  admirable  sense  with  which  she  can 
treat  a  subject  of  which  she  is  able  to  overlook  all  the 
bearings. 

*Haworth  :  July  4,  1834. 
^  In  your  last  you  request  me  to  tell  you  of  your  faults. 
Now,  really,  how  can  you  be  so  foolish  ?  I  wonH  tell  you 
of  your  faults,  because  I  don't  know  them.  What  a  creat- 
ure would  that  be  who,  after  receiving  an  affectionate  and 
kind  letter  from  a  beloved  friend,  should  sit  down  and 
write  a  catalogue  of  defects  by  way  of  answer  !  Imagine 
me  doing  so,  and  then  consider  what  epithets  you  would 
bestow  on  me.  Conceited,  dogmatical,  hypocritical  little 
humbug,  I  should  think,  would  be  the  mildest.  Why, 
child  !  I've  neither  time  nor  inclination  to  reflect  on 
your  faults  when  you  are  so  far  from  me,  and  when, 
besides,  kind  letters  and  presents,  and  so  forth,  are  con- 
tinually bringing  forth  your  goodness  in  the  most  promi- 


134  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

nent  light.  Then^  too,  there  are  judicious  relations  al- 
ways round  you,  who  can  much  better  discharge  that 
unpleasant  office.  I  have  no  doubt  their  advice  is  com- 
pletely at  your  service ;  why  then  should  I  intrude  mine  ? 
If  you  will  not  hear  them,  it  will  be  vain  though  one 
should  rise  from  the  dead  to  instruct  you.    Let  us  have 

no  more  nonsense,  if  you  love  me.    Mr.  is  going  to  be 

married,  is  he  ?  Well,  his  wife  elect  appeared  to  me  to  be 
a  clever  and  amiable  lady,  as  far  as  I  could  judge  from  the 
little  I  saw  of  her,  and  from  your  account.  Now  to  that 
flattering  sentence  must  I  tack  on  a  list  of  her  faults  ?  You 
say  it  is  in  contemplation  for  you  to  leave  Rydings.  I  am 
sorry  for  it.  Rydings  is  a  pleasant  spot,  one  of  the  old 
family  halls  of  England,  surrounded  by  lawn  and  wood- 
land, speaking  of  past  times,  and  suggesting  (to  me  at 
least)  happy  feelings.  Mary  thought  you  grown  less,  did 
she  ?  I  am  not  grown  a  bit,  but  as  short  and  dumpy  as 
ever.  You  ask  me  to  recommend  you  some  books  for 
your  perusal.  I  will  do  so  in  as  few  words  as  I  can.  If 
you  like  poetry,  let  it  be  first-rate  ;  Milton,  Shakespeare, 
Thomson,  Goldsmith,  Pope  (if  you  will,  though  I  don^t 
admire  him),  Scott,  Byron,  Campbell,  Wordsworth,  and 
Southey.  Now  don't  be  startled  at  the  names  of  Shake- 
speare and  Byron.  Both  these  were  great  men,  and  their 
works  are  like  themselves.  You  will  know  how  to  choose 
the  good,  and  to  avoid  the  evil ;  the  finest  passages  are 
always  the  purest,  the  bad  are  invariably  revolting ;  you 
will  never  wish  to  read  them  over  twice.  Omit  the  come- 
dies of  Shakespeare,  and  the  ^^Don  Juan,'^  perhaps  the 
"  Cain  "  of  Byron,  though  the  latter  is  a  magnificent  poem, 
and  read  the  rest  fearlessly;  that  must  indeed  be  a  de- 
praved mind  which  can  gather  evil  from  Henry  VIII.,'' 
from  Richard  IIL,"  from  Macbeth,"  and  ^^Lamlet," 
and  Julius  Caesar."  Scott's  sweet,  wild,  romantic  poetry 
can  do  you  no  harm.  Nor  can  Wordsworth's,  nor  Camp- 
bell's, nor  Southey's — the  greatest  part  at  least  of  his  ; 
some  is  certainly  objectionable.    For  history,  read  Hume, 


1834 


CHOICE  OF  BOOKS 


135 


Kollin,  and  the  ^'Universal  History/^  if  you  can  ;  I  never 
did.  For  fiction,  read  Scott  alone  ;  all  novels  after  his  are 
worthless.  For  biography,  read  Johnson's  ''Lives  of  the 
Poets/'  BoswelFs  ''Life  of  Johnson/'  Southey's  *'Life  of 
Nelson/'  Lockhart's  "Life  of  Burns/'  Moore's  "Life  of 
Sheridan/'  Moore's  "Life  of  Byron/'  Wolfe's  "  Remains.''' 
For  natural  history,  read  Bewick  and  Audubon,  and  Gold- 
smith, and  "White's  History  of  Selborne."  For  divinity, 
your  brother  i  will  advise  you  there.  I  can  only  say,  ad- 
here to  standard  authors,  and  avoid  novelty.' 

From  this  list,  we  see  that  she  must  have  had  a  good 
range  of  books  from  which  to  choose  her  own  reading.  It 
is  evident  that  the  womanly  consciences  of  these  two  cor- 
respondents were  anxiously  alive  to  many  questions  dis- 
cussed among  the  stricter  religionists.  The  morality  of 
Shakespeare  needed  the  confirmation  of  Charlotte's  opin- 
ion to  the  sensitive  'Ellen;'  and,  a  little  later,  she  in- 
quired whether  dancing  was  objectionable  when  indulged 
in  for  an  hour  or  two  in  parties  of  boys  and  girls.  Char- 
lotte replies,  'I  should  hesitate  to  express  a  difference  of 
opinion  from  Mr.  Atkinson,  or  from  your  excellent  sister, 
but  really  the  matter  seems  to  me  to  stand  thus  :  It  is 
allowed  on  all  hands  that  the  sin  of  dancing  consists  not  in 
the  mere  action  of  shaking  the  shanks  '  (as  the  Scotch  say), 
'  but  in  the  consequences  that  usually  attend  it ;  namely, 
frivolity  and  waste  of  time  ;  when  it  is  used  only,  as  in  the 
case  you  state,  for  the  exercise  and  amusement  of  an  hour 
among  young  people  (who  surely  may  without  any  breach 
of  God's  commandments  be  allowed  a  little  light-hearted- 
ness),  these  consequences  cannot  follow.  Ergo  (according 
to  my  manner  of  arguing),  the  amusement  is  at  such  times 
perfectly  innocent.' 

Although  the  distance  between  Haworth  and  Birstall 
was  but  seventeen  miles,  it  was  difficult  to  go  straight 
from  the  one  to  the  other  without  hiring  a  gig  or  vehicle 


*  Henry  Nussey,  then  in  training  for  the  Church. 


136 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


of  some  kind  for  the  journey.  Hence  a  visit  from  Char- 
lotte required  a  good  deal  of  prearrangement.  The  Ha- 
worth  gig  was  not  always  to  be  had  ;  and  Mr.  Bronte  was 
often  unwilling  to  fall  into  any  arrangement  for  meeting  at 
Bradford  or  other  places  which  would  occasion  trouble  to 
others.  The  whole  family  had  an  ample  share  of  that  sen- 
sitive pride  which  led  them  to  dread  incurring  obligations, 
and  to  fear  ^outstaying  their  welcome^  when  on  any  visit.  I 
am  not  sure  whether  Mr.  Bronte  did  not  consider  distrust 
of  others  as  a  part  of  that  knowledge  of  human  nature  on 
which  he  piqued  himself.  His  precepts  to  this  effect, 
combined  with  Charlotte^s  lack  of  hope,  made  her  always 
fearful  of  loving  too  much ;  of  wearying  the  objects  of  her 
affection;  and  thus  she  was  often  trying  to  restrain  her 
warm  feelings,  and  was  ever  chary  of  that  presence  so  in- 
variably welcome  to  her  true  friends.  According  to  this 
mode  of  acting,  when  she  was  invited  for  a  month  she 
stayed  but  a  fortnight  amidst  ^EUen^s^  family,  to  whom 
every  visit  only  endeared  her  the  more,  and  by  whom  she 
was  received  with  kind  of  quiet  gladness  with  which  they 
v/ould  have  greeted  a  sister. 

She  still  kept  up  her  childish  interest  in  politics.  In 
March  1835  she  writes,  ^  What  do  you  think  of  the  course 
politics  are  taking?  I  make  this  inquiry  bec:.use  I  now 
think  you  take  a  wholesome  interest  in  the  matter  ;  for- 
merly you  did  not  care  greatly  about  it.  B.,^  you  see,  is 
triumphant.  Wretch  !  I  am  a  hearty  hater,  and  if  there 
is  any  one  I  thoroughly  abhor,  it  is  that  man.  But  the  Op- 
position is  divided.  Red-hots  and  Luke -warms;  and  the 
Duke  (par  excellence  the  Duke)  and  Sir  Robert  Peel  show 
no  signs  of  insecurity,  though  they  have  been  twice  beat  ; 
so  '^courage,  mon  amie,^^  as  the  old  chevaliers  used  to  say 
before  they  joined  battle.^ 

1  Henry,  Lord  Brougham  (17'78-1868).  He  was  Lord  Chancellor  in 
Earl  Grey's  Ministry  of  1830.  He  was  not,  however,  contrary  to  ex- 
pectation, offered  the  seals  in  Lord  Melbourne's  Ministry  when  it  took 
office  in  1835. 


1835 


A  GREAT  FAMILY  PLAN 


137 


In  the  middle  of  the  summer  of  1835  a  great  family  plan 
was  mooted  at  the  parsonage.  The  question  was,  to  what 
trade  or  profession  should  Branwell  be  brought  up  ?  He 
was  now  nearly  eighteen  ;  it  was  time  to  decide.  He  was 
very  clever,  no  doubt ;  perhaps,  to  begin  with,  the  greatest 
genius  in  this  rare  family.  The  sisters  hardly  recognised 
their  own  or  each  other's  powers,  but  they  knew  Ms,  The 
father,  ignorant  of  many  failings  in  moral  conduct,  did 
proud  homage  to  the  great  gifts  of  his  son  ;  for  BranwelFs 
talents  were  readily  and  willingly  brought  out  for  the  en- 
tertainment of  others.  Popular  admiration  was  sweet  to 
him.  And  this  led  to  his  presence  being  sought  at  ^arvills^ 
and  all  the  great  village  gatherings,  for  the  Yorkshiremen 
have  a  keen  relish  for  intellect  ;  and  it  likewise  procured 
him  the  undesirable  distinction  of  having  his  company  rec- 
ommended by  the  landlord  of  the  ^  Black  Bull '  to  any 
chance  traveller  who  might  happen  to  feel  solitary  or  dull 
over  his  liquor.  ^  Do  you  want  some  one  to  help  you  with 
your  bottle,  sir  ?  If  you  do  I'll  send  for  Patrick'  (so  the 
villagers  called  him  till  the  day  of  his  death,  though  in  his 
own  family  he  was  always  ^Branweir).  And  while  the 
messenger  went  the  landlord  entertained  his  guest  with 
accounts  of  the  wonderful  talents  of  the  boy,  whose  pre- 
cocious cleverness,  and  great  conversational  powers,  were 
the  pride  of  the  village.  The  attacks  of  ill  health  to  which 
Mr.  Bronte  had  been  subject  of  late  years  rendered  it  not 
only  necessary  that  he  should  take  his  dinner  alone  (for 
the  sake  of  avoiding  temptations  to  unwholesome  diet), 
but  made  it  also  desirable  that  he  should  pass  the  time 
directly  succeeding  his  meals  in  perfect  quiet.  And  this 
necessity,  combined  with  due  attention  to  his  parochial 
duties,  made  him  partially  ignorant  how  his  son  employed 
himself  out  of  lesson  time.  His  own  youth  had  been  spent 
among  people  of  the  same  conventional  rank  as  those  into 
whose  companionship  Branwell  was  now  thrown;  but  he  had 
had  a  strong  will,  and  an  earnest  and  persevering  ambition, 
and  a  resoluteness  of  purpose  which  his  weaker  son  wanted. 


138 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


It  is  singular  how  strong  a  yearning  the  whole  family 
had  towards  the  art  of  drr.wing.  Mr.  Bronte  had  been  very 
solicitous  to  get  them  good  instruction  ;  the  girls  them- 
selves loved  everything  connected  with  it — all  descriptions 
or  engravings  of  great  pictures  ;  and,  in  default  of  good 
ones,  they  would  take  and  analyse  any  print  or  drawing 
which  came  in  their  way,  and  find  out  how  much  thought 
had  gone  to  its  composition,  what  ideas  it  was  intended  to 
suggest,  and  what  it  did  suggest.  In  the  same  spirit  they 
laboured  to  design  imaginations  of  their  own  ;  they  lacked 
the  power  of  execution,  not  of  conception.  At  one  time 
Charlotte  had  the  notion  of  making  her  living  as  an  artist, 
and  wearied  her  eyes  in  drawing  with  pre-Raphaelifce  mi- 
nuteness, but  not  with  pre-Raphaelite  accuracy,  for  she 
drew  from  fancy  rather  than  from  nature. 

But  they  all  thought  there  could  be  no  doubt  about  Bran- 
welFs  talent  for  drawing.  I  have  seen  an  oil  painting  of 
his,  done  I  know  not  when,  but  probably  about  this  time. 
It  was  a  group  of  his  sisters,  life  size,  three-quarters  length  ; 
not  much  better  than  sign-painting,  as  to  manipulation  ;  but 
the  likenesses  were,  I  should  think,  admirable.  I  could  only 
judge  of  the  fidelity  with  which  the  other  two  were  depicted 
from  the  striking  resemblance  which  Charlotte,  upholding 
the  great 'frame  of  canvas,  and  consequently  standing  right 
behind  it,  bore  to  her  own  representation,  though  it  must 
have  been  ten  years  and  more  since  the  portraits  were  taken. 
The  picture  was  divided,  almost  in  the  middle,  by  a  great 
pillar.  On  the  side  of  the  column  which  was  lighted  by  the 
sun  stood  Charlotte  in  the  womanly  dress  of  that  day  of 
gigot  sleeves  and  large  collars.  On  the  deeply  shadowed 
side  was  Emily,  with  Anne's  gentle  face  resting  on  her 
shoulder.  Emily's  countenance  struck  me  as  full  of  power ; 
Charlotte's  of  solicitude ;  Anne's  of  tenderness.  The  two 
younger  seemed  hardly  to  have  attained  their  full  growth, 
though  Emily  was  taller  than  Charlotte ;  they  had  cropped 
hair,  and  a  more  girlish  dress.  I  remember  looking  on 
those  two  sad,  earnest,  shadowed  faces,  and  wondering 


1835  PORTRAITS  OF  THE  SISTERS  139 


whether  I  could  trace  the  mysterious  expression  which  is 
said  to  foretell  an  early  death.  I  had  some  f ond^  superstitions 
hope  that  the  column  divided  their  fates  from  hers,  who 
stood  apart  in  the  canvas,  as  in  life  she  survived.  I  liked 
to  see  that  the  bright  side  of  the  pillar  was  towards  her — that 
the  light  in  the  picture  fell  on  lier:  I  might  more  truly  have 
sought  in  her  presentment — nay,  in  her  living  face — for  the 
sign  of  death  in  her  prime.  They  were  good  likenesses, 
however  badly  executed.*  From  thence  I  should  guess  his 
family  argued  truly  that,  if  Branwell  had  but  the  oppor- 
tunity, and,  alas !  had  but  the  moral  qualities,  he  might 
turn  out  a  great  painter. 

The  best  way  of  preparing  him  to  become  so  appeared  to 
be  to  send  him  as  a  pupil  to  the  Royal  Academy.^    I  dare 

^  This  portrait  group,  which  for  some  years  stood  at  the  top  of  the 
staircase  at  the  Haworth  parsonage,  exactl}^  facing  the  door  of  the  lit- 
tle room  that  had  been  the  children's  nursery,  was  removed  by  Mr.  A. 
B.  Nicholls  to  his  home  in  Ireland  when  he  left  Haworth.  He  thought 
so  poorly  of  the  portraits  of  his  wife  and  of  Anne  Bronte  that  he  cut 
them  out  of  the  canvas  and  destroyed  them.  He  retained,  however, 
the  portrait  of  Emily,  and  this  he  gave  to  Martha  Brown,  the  Brontes' 
servant,  on  one  of  her  several  visits  to  him  in  Ireland.  Martha  Brown 
took  it  back  with  her  to  Haworth,  but  it  has  long  since  disappeared. 
Fortunately,  however,  a  photograph  of  the  family  group  was  made  from 
another  picture  by  Branwell  at  Haworth,  and  this  photograph  has 
been  identified  by  Mr.  A.  B.  Nicholls  as  containing  a  good  portrait  of 
Emily.  The  volume  of  Wuthering  HeigJits  in  this  series  of  the  Bronte 
novels  contains  a  beautiful  reproduction  of  this  portrait — the  only  at- 
tempt at  a  presentation  of  Emily  BrontG's  appearance  that  we  shall 
ever  know. 

2  Branwell  wrote  as  follows  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Royal  Academy 
(only  this  fragment  of  his  letter  remains)  : — 

*  Sir, — Having  an  earnest  desire  to  enter  as  probationary  student  in 
the  Royal  Academy,  but  not  being  possessed  of  information  as  to  the 
means  of  obtaining  my  desire,  I  presume  to  request  from  you,  as  Sec- 
tary to  the  Institution,  an  answer  to  the  questions — 

*  Where  am  I  to  present  my  drawings  ? 

*  At  what  time  ? 

and  especially, 

*  Can  I  do  it  in  August  or  September 


140  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


say  he  longed  and  yearned  to  follow  this  path,  principally 
because  it  would  lead  him  to  that  mysterious  London — 
that  Babylon  the  great — which  seems  to  have  filled  the  im- 
aginations and  haunted  the  minds  of  all  the  younger  mem- 
bers of  this  recluse  family.  To  Branwell  it  was  more  than 
a  vivid  imagination,  it  was  an  impressed  reality.  By  dint 
of  studying  maps  he  was  as  well  acquainted  with  it,  even 
down  to  its  byways,  as  if  he  had  lived  there.  Poor  misguided 
fellow  !  this  craving  to  see  and  know  London,  and  that 
stronger  craving  after  fame  were  never  to  be  satisfied.  He 
was  to  die  at  the  end  of  a  short  and  blighted  life.  But  in 
this  year  of  1835  all  his  home  kindred  were  thinking  how 
they  could  best  forward  his  views,  and  how  help  him  up  to 
the  pinnacle  where  he  desired  to  be.  What  their  plans 
were  let  Charlotte  explain.  These  are  not  the  first  sisters 
who  have  laid  their  lives  as  a  sacrifice  before  their  brother's 
idolised  wish.  Would  to  God  they  might  be  the  last  who 
met  with  such  a  miserable  return  ! 

*Haworth:  July  6,  1835. 
had  hoped  to  have  had  the  extreme  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  at  Haworth  this  summer,  but  human  affairs  are  muta- 
ble, and  human  resolutions  must  bend  to  the  course  of 
events.  We  are  all  about  to  divide,  break  up,  separate. 
Emily  is  going  to  school,  Branwell  is  going  to  London,  and 
I  am  going  to  be  a  governess.  This  last  determination  I 
formed  myself,  knowing  that  I  should  have  to  take  the 
step  some  time,  ^^and  better  sune  as  syne,''  to  use  the 
Scotch  proverb;  and  knowing  well  that  papa  would  have 
enough  to  do  with  his  limited  income,  should  Branwell  be 
placed  at  the  Royal  Academy,  and  Emily  at  Roe  Head. 
Where  am  I  going  to  reside  ?  you  will  ask.  Within 
four  miles  of  you,  at  a  place  neither  of  us  is  unacquainted 
with,  being  no  other  than  the  identical  Roe  Head  men- 
tioned above.  Yes  !  I  am  going  to  teach  in  the  very  school 
where  I  was  myself  taught.  Miss  Wooler  made  me  the 
offer,  and  I  preferred  it  to  one  or  two  proposals  of  private 
governess-ship,  which  I  had  before  received.    I  am  sad — 


1835  PROSPECT  OF  SEPARATION  141 


very  sad  — at  the  thoughts  of  leaving  home  ;  but  duty — 
necessity — these  are  stern  mistresses,  who  will  not  be  dis- 
obeyed. Did  I  not  once  say  you  ought  to  be  thankful  for 
your  independence  ?  I  felt  what  I  said  at  the  time,  and  I 
repeat  it  now  with  double  earnestness;  if  anything  would 
cheer  me,  it  is  the  idea  of  being  so  near  you.  Surely  you 
and  Polly  ^  will  come  and  see  me  ;  it  would  be  wrong  in  me 
to  doubt  it ;  you  were  never  unkind  yet.  Emily  and  I 
leave  home  on  the  27th  of  this  month  ;  the  idea  of  being 
together  consoles  us  both  somewhat,  and,  truth,  since  I 
must  enter  a  situation,  "  my  lines  have  fallen  in  pleasant 
places.'^   I  both  love  and  respect  Miss  Wooler/ 


*  Mary  Taylor. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


On  July  29,  1835,  Charlotte,  now  a  little  more  than  nine- 
teen years  old,  went  as  teacher  to  Miss  Wooler^s.  Emily 
accompanied  her  as  a  pupil ;  but  she  became  literally  ill 
from  home-sickness,  and  could  not  settle  to  anything,  and 
after  passing  only  three  months  at  Roe  Head  returned  to 
the  parsonage  and  the  beloved  moors. 

Miss  Bronte  gives  the  following  reasons  as  those  which 
prevented  Emily^s  remaining  at  school,  and  caused  the 
substitution  of  her  younger  sister  in  her  place  at  Miss 
Wooler's : — 

^My  sister  Emily  loved  the  moors.  Flowers  brighter 
than  the  rose  bloomed  in  the  blackest  of  the  heath  for  her ; 
out  of  a  sullen  hollow  in  a  livid  hillside  her  mind  could 
make  an  Eden.  She  found  in  the  bleak  solitude  many  and 
dear  delights  ;  and  not  the  least  and  best  loved  was — liberty. 
Liberty  was  the  breath  of  Emily^s  nostrils;  without  it  she 
perished.  The  change  from  her  own  home  to  a  school,  and 
from  her  own  very  noiseless,  very  secluded,  but  unrestricted 
and  unartificial  mode  of  life,  to  one  of  disciplined  routine 
(though  under  the  kindest  auspices)  was  what  she  failed  in 
enduring.  Her  nature  proved  here  too  strong  for  her  for- 
t.Hude.  Every  morning,  when  she  woke,  the  vision  of 
home  and  the  moors  rushed  on  her,  and  darkened  and  sad- 
dened the  day  that  lay  before  her.  Nobody  knew  what 
ailed  her  but  me.  I  knew  only  too  well.  In  this  struggle 
her  health  was  quickly  broken  :  her  white  face,  attenuated 
form,  and  failing  strength  threatened  rapid  decline.  I 
felt  in  my  heart  she  would  die  if  she  did  not  go  home,  and 
with  this  conviction  obtained  her  recall.  ,  She  had  only 
been  three  months  at  school ;  and  it  was  some  years  before 


1835 


FROM  HOME 


143 


the  experiment  of  sending  her  from  home  was  again  vent- 
ured on/ 

This  physical  suffering  on  Emily's  part  when  absent 
from  Haworth,  after  recurring  several  times  under  similar 
circumstances,  became  at  length  so  much  an  acknowledged 
fact,  that  whichever  was  obliged  to  leave  home,  the  sisters 
decided  that  Emily  must  remain  there,  where  alone  she 
could  enjoy  anything  like  good  health.  She  left  it  twice 
again  in  her  life  ;  once  going  as  teacher  to  a  school  in  Hali- 
fax for  six  months,  and  afterwards  accompanying  Charlotte 
to  Brussels  for  ten.  When  at  home  she  took  the  principal 
part  of  the  cooking  upon  herself,  and  did  all  the  household 
ironing ;  and  after  Tabby  grew  old  and  infirm  it  was  Emily 
who  made  all  the  bread  for  the  family ;  and  any  one  pass- 
ing by  the  kitchen  door  might  have  seen  her  studying 
German  out  of  an  open  book,  propped  up  before  her,  as 
she  kneaded  the  dough  ;  but  no  study,  however  interesting, 
interfered  with  the  goodness  of  the  bread,  which  was 
always  light  and  excellent.  Books  were,  indeed,  a  very 
common  sight  in  that  kitchen  ;  the  girls  were  taught  by 
their  father  theoretically,  and  by  their  aunt  practically, 
that  to  take  an  active  part  in  all  household  work  was,  in 
their  position,  woman's  simple  duty  ;  but  in  their  careful 
employment  of  time  they  found  many  an  odd  five  minutes 
for  reading  while  watching  the  cakes,  and  managed  the 
union  of  two  kinds  of  employment  better  than  King  Alfred. 

Charlotte's  life  at  Miss  Wooler's  was  a  very  happy  one, 
until  her  health  failed.  She  sincerely  loved  and  respected 
the  former  schoolmistress,  to  whom  she  was  now  become 
both  companion  and  friend.  The  girls  were  hardly  stran- 
gers to  her,  some  of  them  being  younger  sisters  of  those 
who  had  been  her  own  playmates.  Though  the  duties  of 
the  day  might  be  tedious  and  monotonous,  there  were  al- 
ways two  or  three  happy  hours  to  look  forward  to  in  the 
evening,  when  she  and  Miss  Wooler  sat  together  —  some- 
times late  into  the  night — and  had  quiet,  pleasant  conver- 
sations, or  pauses  of  silence  as  agreeable,  because  each  felt 


144 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


that  as  fcjoon  as  a  thought  or  remark  occurred  which  they 
wished  to  express  there  was  an  intelligent  companion 
ready  to  sympathise,  and  yet  they  were  not  compelled  to 
^make  talk/ 

Miss  Wooler  was  always  anxious  to  afford  Miss  Bronte 
every  opportunity  of  recreation  in  her  power  ;  but  the  diffi- 
culty often  was  to  persuade  her  to  avail  herself  of  the  invi- 
tations which  came,  urging  her  to  spend  Saturday  and 
Sunday  with  ^  Ellen '  and  ^  Mary '  in  their  respective  homes, 
that  lay  within  the  distance  of  a  walk.  She  was  too  apt  to 
consider  that  allowing  herself  a  holiday  was  a  dereliction 
of  duty,  and  to  refuse  herself  the  necessary  change,  from 
something  of  an  over-ascetic  spirit,  betokening  a  loss  of 
healthy  balance  in  either  body  or  mind.  Indeed,  it  is  clear 
that  such  was  the  case,  from  a  passage,  referring  to  this 
time,  in  the  letter  of  ^  Mary  ^  from  which  I  have  before 
given  extracts. 

^  Three  years  after'  (the  period  when  they  were  at 
school  together)  ^  I  heard  that  she  had  gone  as  teacher  to 
Miss  Wooler^s.  I  went  to  see  her,  and  asked  how  she  could 
give  so  much  for  so  little  money,  when  she  could  live  with- 
out it.  She  owned  that,  after  clothing  herself  and  Anne, 
there  was  nothing  left,  though  she  had  hoped  to  be  able  to 
save  something.  She  confessed  it  was  not  brilliant,  b«t 
what  could  she  do  ?  I  had  nothing  to  answer.  She  seemed 
to  have  no  interest  or  pleasure  beyond  the  feeling  of  duty, 
and,  when  she  could  get  the  opportunity,  used  to  sit  alone, 
and  ^^make  out.^^  She  told  me  afterwards  that  one  evening 
she  had  sat  in  the  dressing-room  until  it  was  quite  dark, 
and  then  observing  it  all  at  once  had  taken  sudden  fright.^ 
No  doubt  she  remembered  this  well  when  she  described  a 
similar  terror  getting  hold  upon  Jane  Eyre.  She  says  in  the 
story,  '  I  sat  looking  at  the  white  bed  and  overshadowed 
walls — occasionally  turning  a  fascinated  eye  towards  the 
gleaming  mirror — I  began  to  recall  what  I  had  heard  of 
dead  men  troubled  in  their  graves.  ...  I  endeavoured  to 
be  firm ;  shaking  my  hair  from  my  eyes,  I  lifted  my  head 


1835 


DESPONDENCY 


145 


and  tried  to  look  boldly  through  the  dark  room  ;  at  this 
moment,  a  ray  from  the  moon  penetrated  some  aperture  in 
the  blind.  No  !  moonlight  was  still,  and  this  stirred  .  .  . 
prepared  as  my  mind  was  for  horror,  shaken  as  my  nerves 
were  by  agitation,  I  thought  the  swift-darting  beam  was  a 
herald  of  some  coming  vision  from  another  world.  My 
heart  beat  thick,  my  head  grew  hot  ;  a  sound  filled  my 
ears  which  I  deemed  the  rustling  of  wings  ;  something 
seemed  near  me/^ 

^  From  that  time,^  Mary  adds,  ^her  imaginations  became 
gloomy  or  frightful ;  she  could  not  help  it,  nor  help  think- 
ing. She  could  not  forget  the  gloom,  could  not  sleep  at 
night,  nor  attend  in  the  day. 

'  She  told  me  that  one  night,  sitting  alone,  about  this 
time,  she  heard  a  voice  repeat  these  lines  : 

*Come,  thou  high  and  holy  feeling, 
Shine  o'er  mountain,  flit  o'er  wave, 
Gleam  like  light  o'er  dome  and  shieling. 

There  were  eight  or  ten  more  lines  which  I  forget.  She 
insisted  that  she  had  not  made  them,  that  she  had  heard  a 
voice  repeat  them.  It  is  possible  that  she  had  read  them, 
and  unconsciously  recalled  them.  They  are  not  in  the 
volume  of  poems  which  the  sisters  published.  She  re- 
peated a  verse  of  Isaiah,  which  she  said  had  inspired  them, 
and  which  I  have  forgotten.  Whether  the  lines  were  recol- 
lected or  invented,  the  tale  proves  such  habits  of  sedentary, 
monotonous  solitude  of  thought  as  would  have  shaken  a 
feebler  mind.^ 

Of  course  the  state  of  health  thus  described  came  on 
gradually,  and  is  not  to  be  taken  as  a  picture  of  her  con- 
dition in  1836.  Yet  even  then  there  is  a  despondency 
in  some  of  her  expressions,  that  too  sadly  reminds  one  of 
some  of  Cowper's  letters.  And  it  is  remarkable  how  deep- 
ly his  poems  impressed  her.  His  words,  in  verses,  came 
more  frequently  to  her  memory,  I  imagine,  than  tliose  of 
any  other  poet. 

>  Jane  Eyre, 


146 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


'Mary^  says,  ^Oowper^s  poem,  The  Castaway/^  was 
known  to  them  all,  and  they  all  at  times  appreciated,  or 
almost  appropriated  it.  Charlotte  told  me  once  that 
Branwell  had  done  so  ;  and  though  his  depression  was 
the  result  of  his  faults,  it  was  in  no  other  respect  differ- 
ent from  hers.  Both  were  not  mental  but  physical  ill- 
nesses. She  was  well  aware  of  this,  and  would  ask  how 
that  mended  matters,  as  the  feeling  was  there  all  the  same, 
and  was  not  removed  by  knowing  the  cause.  She  had  a 
larger  religious  toleration  than  a  person  would  have  who 
had  never  questioned,  9,nd  the  manner  of  recommending 
religion  was  always  that  of  offering  comfort,  not  fiercely 
enforcing  a  duty.  One  time  I  mentioned  that  some  one 
had  asked  me  what  religion  I  was  of  (with  the  view  of  get- 
ting me  for  a  partisan),  and  that  I  had  said  that  that  was 
between  God  and  me.  Emily  (who  was  lying  on  the  hearth- 
rug), exclaimed,  That^s  right.^'  This  was  all  I  ever  heard 
Emily  say  on  religious  subjects.  Charlotte  was  free  from 
religious  depression  when  in  tolerable  health  ;  when  that 
failed  her  depression  returned.  You  have  probably  seen 
such  instances.  They  don^t  get  over  their  difficulties ; 
they  forget  them,  when  their  stomach  (or  whatever  organ 
it  is  that  inflicts  such  misery  on  sedentary  people)  will  let 
them.  I  have  heard  her  condemn  Socinianism,  Calvinism, 
and  many  other  isms  inconsistent  with  Church  of  Eng- 
landism.  I  used  to  wonder  at  her  acquaintance  with  such 
subjects.'' 

*  May  10,  1836. 

^  I  was  struck  with  the  note  you  sent  me  with  the  um- 
brella ;  it  showed  a  degree  of  interest  in  my  concerns 
which  I  have  no  right  to  expect  from  any  earthly  creature. 
I  won^t  play  the  hypocrite  ;  I  won't  answer  your  kind,  gen- 
tle, friendly  questions  in  the  way  you  wish  me  to.  Don't 
deceive  yourself  by  imagining  I  have  a  bit  of  real  goodness 
about  me.  My  darling,  if  I  were  like  you,  I  should  have 
my  face  Zionward,  though  prejudice  and  error  might  occa- 
sionally fling  a  mist  over  the  glorious  vision  before  me — 


1836 


RELIGIOUS  DEPRESSION 


147 


but  /  am  not  like  you.  If  you  knew  my  thoughts,  the 
dreams  that  absorb  i  ie,  and  the  fiery  imagination  that  at 
times  eats  me  up,  and  makes  me  feel  society,  as  it  is, 
wretchedly  insipid,  you  would  pity  and  I  dare  say  despise 
me.  But  I  know  the  treasures  of  the  Bible;  I  love  and 
adore  them.  I  can  see  the  Well  of  Life  in  all  its  clear- 
ness and  brightness ;  but  when  I  stoop  down  to  drink 
of  the  pure  waters  they  fly  from  my  lips  as  if  I  were  Tan- 
talus. 

*  You  are  far  too  kind  and  frequent  in  your  invitations. 
You  puzzle  me.  I  hardly  know  how  to  refuse,  and  it  is 
still  more  embarrassing  to  accept.  At  any  rate  I  cannot 
come  this  week,  for  we  are  in  the  very  thickest  77ielee  of  the 
Repetitions.  I  was  hearing  the  terrible  fifth  section  when 
your  note  arrived.  But  Miss  Wooler  says  I  must  go  to 
Mary  next  Friday,  as  she  promised  for  me  on  Whit  Sun- 
day; and  on  Sunday  morning  I  will  join  you  at  church,  if 
it  be  convenient,  and  stay  till  Monday.  There^'s  a  free 
and  easy  proposal  !  Miss  Wooler  has  driven  me  to  it.  She 
says  her  character  is  implicated.^ 

Good,  kind  Miss  Wooler  !  however  monotonous  and  try- 
ing were  the  duties  Charlotte  had  to  perform  under  her 
roof,  there  was  always  a  genial  and  thoughtful  friend 
watching  over  her,  and  urging  her  to  partake  of  any  little 
piece  of  innocent  recreation  that  might  come  in  her  way. 
And  in  those  midsummer  holidays  of  1836  her  friend  ^  El- 
len ^  came  to  stay  with  her  at  Haworth,  so  there  was  one 
happy  time  secured. 

Here  follows  a  series  of  letters,  not  dated,  but  belonging 
to  the  latter  portion  of  this  year;  and  again  we  think  of 
the  gentle  and  melancholy  Cowper. 

*  My  dear  dear  Ellen, — I  am  at  this  moment  trembling  all 
over  with  excitement,  after  reading  your  note ;  it  is  what 
I  never  received  before — it  is  the  unrestrained  pouring  out 
of  a  warm,  gentle,  generous  heart.  ...  I  thank  you  with 


148 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


energy  for  this  kindness.  I  will  no  longer  shrink  from  an- 
swering your  questions.  I  do  wish  tcr  be  better  than  I  am. 
I  pray  fervently  sometimes  to  be  made  so.  I  have  stings  of 
conscience,  visitings  of  remorse,  glimpses  of  holy,  of  inex- 
pressible things,  which  formerly  I  used  to  be  a  stranger  to ; 
it  may  all  die  away,  and  I  may  be  in  utter  midnight,  but  I 
implore  a  merciful  Redeemer  that,  if  this  be  the  dawn  of 
the  gospel,  it  may  still  brighten  to  perfect  day.  Do  not 
mistake  me — do  not  think  I  am  good ;  I  only  wish  to  be  so. 
I  only  hate  my  former  flippancy  and  forwardness.  Oh !  I 
am  no  better  than  ever  I  was.  I  am  in  that  state  of  horrid, 
gloomy  uncertainty  that,  at  this  moment,  I  would  submit 
to  be  old,  grey-haired,  to  have  passed  all  my  youthful  days 
of  enjoyment,  and  to  be  settling  on  the  verge  of  the  grave, 
if  I  could  only  thereby  ensure  the  prospect  of  reconcilia- 
tion to  God,  and  redemption  through  His  Son^s  merits.  I 
never  was  exactly  careless  of  these  matters,  but  I  have  al- 
ways taken  a  clouded  and  repulsive  view  of  them ;  and  now, 
if  possible,  the  clouds  are  gathering  darker,  and  a  more 
oppressive  despondency  weighs  on  my  spirits.  You  have 
cheered  me,  my  darling ;  for  one  moment,  for  an  atom  of 
time,  I  thought  I  might  call  you  my  own  sister  in  the 
spirit;  but  the  excitement  is  past,  and  I  am  now  as  wretch- 
ed and  hopeless  as  ever.  This  very  night  I  will  pray  as 
you  wish  me.  May  the  Almighty  hear  me  compassionate- 
ly  !  and  I  humbly  hope  He  will,  for  you  will  strengthen  my 
polluted  petitions  with  your  own  pure  requests.  All  is 
bustle  and  confusion  round  me,  the  ladies  pressing  with 
their  sums  and  their  lessons.  ...  If  you  love  me,  do,  do,  do 
come  on  Friday :  I  shall  watch  and  wait  for  you,  and  if 
you  disappoint  me  I  shall  weep.  I  wish  you  could  know 
the  thrill  of  delight  which  I  experienced  when,  as  I  stood 

at  the  dining-room  window,  I  saw  ,^  as  he  whirled  past, 

toss  your  little  packet  over  the  wall.^ 

Huddersfield  market  day  was  still  the  great  period  for 
*  *your  brother  George.* 


I 


1836 


CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  ^  ELLEN' 


149 


events  at  Roe  Head.  Then  girls^  running  round  the  corner 
of  the  house  and  peeping  between  tree  sterns^  and  up  a 
shadowy  lane,  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  father  or  brother 
driving  to  market  in  his  gig ;  might,  perhaps,  exchange  a 
wave  of  the  hand ;  or  see,  as  Charlotte  Bronte  did  from  the 
window,  a  white  packet  tossed  over  the  wall  by  some  swift, 
strong  motion  of  an  arm,  the  rest  of  the  traveller's  body 
unseen. 

^  Weary  with  a  day^s  hard  work  ...  I  am  sitting  down 
to  write  a  few  lines  to  my  dear  Ellen.  Excuse  me  if  I  say 
nothing  but  nonsense,  for  my  mind  is  exhausted  and  dis- 
pirited. It  is  a  stormy  evening,  and  the  wind  is  uttering 
a  continual  moaning  sound,  that  makes  me  feel  very  melan- 
choly. At  such  times — in  such  moods  as  these — it  is  my 
nature  to  seek  repose  in  some  calm,  tranquil  idea,  and  I 
have  now  summoned  up  your  image  to  give  me  rest.  There 
you  sit,  upright  and  still  in  your  black  dress,  and  white 
scarf,  and  pale,  marble-like  face — just  like  reality.  I  wish 
you  would  speak  to  me.  If  we  should  be  separated — if  it 
should  be  our  lot  to  live  at  a  great  distance,  and  never  to 
see  each  other  again — in  old  age,  how  I  should  conjure  up 
the  memory  of  my  youthful  days,  and  what  a  melancholy 
pleasure  I  should  feel  in  dwelling  on  the  recollection  of  my 
early  friend  !  .  .  .  I  have  some  qualities  that  make  me  very 
miserable,  some  feelings  that  you  can  have  no  participation 
in — that  few,  very  few  people  in  the  world  can  at  all  un- 
derstand. I  don't  pride  myself  on  these  peculiarities.  I 
strive  to  conceal  and  suppress  them  as  much  as  I  can  ;  but 
they  burst  out  sometimes,  and  then  those  who  see  the  ex- 
plosion despise  me,  and  I  hate  myself  for  days  afterwards. 
.  .  .  I  have  just  received  your  epistle  and  what  accom- 
panied it.  I  can't  tell  what  should  induce  you  and  your 
sisters  to  waste  your  kindness  on  such  a  one  as  me.  I'm 
obliged  to  them,  and  I  hope  you'll  tell  them  so.  I'm 
obliged  to  you  also,  more  for  your  note  than  for  your  present. 
The  first  gave  me  pleasure,  the  last  something  like  pain.' 


150  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


The  nervous  disturbance,  which  is  stated  to  have  troubled 
her  while  she  was  at  Miss  Wooler^s,  seems  to  have  begun 
to  distress  her  about  this  time;  at  least,  she  herself  speaks 
of  her  irritable  condition,  which  was  certainly  only  a  tem- 
porary ailment. 

^  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me  of  late,  and  have  spared 
me  all  those  little  sallies  of  ridicule  which,  owing  to  my 
miserable  and  wretched  touchiness  of  character,  used  for- 
merly to  make  me  wince,  as  if  I  had  been  touched  with  a 
hot  iron ;  things  that  nobody  else  cares  for  enter  into  my 
mind  and  rankle  there  like  venom.  I  know  these  feelings 
are  absurd,  and  therefore  I  try  to  hide  them,  but  they  only 
sting  the  deeper  for  concealment.^ 

Compare  this  state  of  mind  with  the  gentle  resignation 
with  which  she  had  submitted  to  be  put  aside  as  useless,  or 
told  of  her  ugliness  by  her  schoolfellows,  only  three  years 
before. 

^  My  life  since  I  saw  you  has  passed  as  monotonously  and 
unbroken  as  ever ;  nothing  but  teach,  teach,  teach,  from 
morning  till  night.  The  greatest  variety  I  ever  have  is 
afforded  by  a  letter  from  you,  or  by  meeting  with  a  pleasant 
new  book.    The  ^'  Life  of  Oberlin,^"  ^  and  Legh  Richmond's 

Domestic  Portraiture,"  ^  are  the  last  of  this  description. 
The  latter  work  strongly  attracted  and  strangely  fascinated 
my  attention.  Beg,  borrow,  or  steal  it  without  delay;  and 
read  the  Memoir  of  Wilberf orce — that  short  record  of 
a  brief,  uneventful  life  ;  I  shall  never  forget  it ;  it  is  beau- 
tiful, not  on  account  of  the  language  in  which  it  is  written, 
not  on  account  of  the  incidents  it  details,  but  because  of 
the  simple  narrative  it  gives  of  a  young  talented,  sincere 
Christian.' 

*  The  Life  of  Oherlin  was  entitled  Brief  Memorials  of  Oherlin.  Sims 
was  the  name  of  the  autl)or,  and  it  was  published  in  1830.  Johann 
Friedricb  Oberlin,  an  Alsatian  pastor,  was  a  pioneer  of  education. 
He  was  born  at  Strasburg  in  1740,  and  died  in  1826. 

*  Legh  Richmond  (1772-1827)  was  one  of  the  most  popular  authors 
of  his  day.  His  Dairyman's  Daughter  is  still  read.  Domestic  Por- 
traiture was  published  in  1833. 


1836 


GOVERNESS  LIFE 


151 


AboTit  this  time  Miss  Wooler  removed  her  school  from 
the  fine,  open,  breezy  situation  at  Roe  Head  to  Dewsbury 
Moor,  only  two  or  three  miles  distant  J  Her  new  residence 
was  on  a  lower  site,  and  the  air  was  less  exhilarating  to  one 
bred  in  the  wild  hill  village  of  Haworth.  Emily  had  gone 
as  teacher  to  a  school  at  Halifax,  where  there  were  nearly 
forty  pupils. 

'I  have  had  one  letter  from  her  since  her  departure,"* 
writes  Charlotte  on  October  2, 1836  :  ^it  gives  an  appalling 
account  of  her  duties ;  hard  labour  from  six  in  the  morn- 
ing to  eleven  at  night,  with  only  one  half-hour  of  exercise 
between.    This  is  slavery.    I  fear  she  can  never  stand  it.''* 

When  the  sisters  met  at  home  in  the  Christmas  holi- 
days they  talked  over  their  lives,  and  the  prospect  which 

^  It  must  have  been  after  the  holidays  of  Christmas  1836  that  the 
removal  to  Dewsbury  took  place,  as  there  is  a  memento  of  that  date  in 
the  form  of  a  copy  of  Watts  on  the  Improvement  of  the  Mind  and  Educa- 
tion of  Youth  (Dove's  English  Classics,  1826).  It  is  inscribed  in  Miss 
Wooler's  handwriting,  *  Prize  for  good  conduct.  Presented  to  Miss  A. 
Bronte  with  Miss  Wooler's  kind  love.    Roe  Head,  December  14,  1836.' 

'Singularly  little  is  known  of  Emily's  stay  at  Miss  Patchett's  school, 
Law  Hill,  Southowram,  near  Halifax.  She  was  a  teaciier  there  from 
September  1836  to  March  or  April  1837.  The  house  still  stands,  but  it 
was  larger  than  at  present  in  Emily's  time.  Mr.  Thomas  Keyworth, 
writing  in  the  Bookman  (March  1893),  informs  us  on  the  authority  of 
a  resident  in  the  neighbourhood  that : — *  It  was  a  famous  school.  The 
Miss  Patchetts  kept  it  as  far  back  as  I  can  remember  anything,  and  I 
was  born  in  1818.  There  were  two  sisters,  Elizabeth  and  Maria.  Miss 
Maria  was  very  gentle,  but  Miss  Elizabeth  was  stately  and  austere. 
We  alw^ays  understood  she  knew  how  to  keep  things  in  order.  Miss 
Maria  got  married,  and  went  to  live  at  Dewsbury.  I  think  that  would 
be  previous  to  1836.  Then  Miss  Elizabeth  kept  on  the  school  for  a 
few  years,  but  not  for  long.  She  married  Parson  Hope,  the  vicar  of 
St.  Anne's,  at  Southowram,  and  the  school  was  given  up.* 

Mr.  Keyworth  contends  that  Law  Hill  was  the  original  Wuthering 
Heights  of  Emily's  novel.  It  is  clear,  however,  that  Ponden  Hous?e, 
near  Haworth,  did  duty  for  at  least  the  interior  of  Wuthering 
Heights,  and  that  Oldfield,  in  the  same  district,  was  Thrushcross 
Grange. 


152 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


they  afforded  of  employment  and  remuneration.  They  felt 
that  it  was  a  duty  to  relieve  their  father  of  the  burden 
of  their  support,  if  not  entirely  of  that  of  all  three,  at 
least  that  of  one  or  two ;  and,  naturally,  the  lot  devolved 
upon  the  elder  ones  to  find  some  occupation  which  would 
enable  them  to  do  this.  They  knew  that  they  were  never 
likely  to  inherit  much  money.  Mr.  Bronte  had  but  a 
small  stipend,  and  was  both  charitable  and  liberal.  Their 
aunt  had  an  annuity  of  50?.,  but  it  reverted  to  others  at 
her  death,  and  her  nieces  had  no  right,  and  were  the  last 
persons  in  the  world  to  reckon  upon  her  savings.  What 
could  they  do  ?  Charlotte  and  Emily  were  trying  teaching, 
and,  as  it  seemed,  without  much  success.  The  former,  it 
is  true,  had  the  happiness  of  having  a  friend  for  her  em- 
ployer, and  of  being  surrounded  by  those  who  knew  her 
and  loved  her ;  but  her  salary  was  too  small  for  her  to 
save  out  of  it ;  and  her  education  did  not  entitle  her  to  a 
larger.  The  sedentary  and  monotonous  nature  of  the  life, 
too,  was  preying  upon  her  health  and  spirits,  although, 
with  necessity  ^as  her  mistress,^  she  might  hardly  like  to 
acknowledge  this  even  to  herself.  But  Emily — that  free, 
wild,  untameable  spirit,  never  happy  nor  well  but  on  the 
sweeping  moors  that  gathered  round  her  home — that  hater 
of  strangers,  doomed  to  live  amongst  them,  and  not  mere- 
ly to  live  but  to  slave  in  their  service  —  what  Charlotte 
could  have  borne  patiently  for  herself  she  could  not  bear 
for  her  sister.  And  yet  what  to  do  ?  She  had  once  hoped 
that  she  herself  might  become  an  artist,  and  so  earn  her 
livelihood ;  but  her  eyes  had  failed  her  in  the  minute  and 
useless  labour  which  she  had  imposed  upon  herself  with  a 
view  to  this  end. 

It  was  the  household  custom  among  these  girls  to  sew 
till  nine  o^clock  at  night.  At  that  hour  Miss  Branwell 
generally  went  to  bed,  and  her  nieces^  duties  for  the  day 
were  accounted  done.  They  put  away  their  work,  and  be- 
gan to  pace  the  room  backwards  and  forwards,  up  and 
down — as  often  with  the  candles  extinguished,  for  econ- 


1836 


LETTER  TO  SOUTHEY 


153 


omy's  sake,  as  not, — their  figures  glancing  into  the  fire- 
light, and  out  into  the  shadow,  perpetually.  At  this  time 
they  talked  over  past  cares  a<nd  troubles  ;  they  planned  for 
the  future,  and  consulted  each  other  as  to  their  plans.  In 
after  years  this  was  the  time  for  discussing  together  the 
plots  of  their  novels.  And  again,  still  later,  this  was  the 
time  for  the  last  surviving  sister  to  walk  alone,  from  old 
accustomed  habit,  round  and  round  the  desolate  room,  think- 
ing sadly  upon  the  ^days  that  were  no  more.''  But  this 
Christmas  of  1836  was  not  without  its'  hopes  and  daring 
aspirations.  They  had  tried  their  hands  at  story-writing, 
in  their  miniature  magazine,  long  ago  ;  they  all  of  them 
'made  out^  perpetually.  They  had  likewise  attempted  to 
write  poetry,  and  had  a  modest  confidence  that  they  had 
achieved  a  tolerable  success.  But  they  knew  that  they 
might  deceive  themselves,  and  that  sisters^  judgments  of 
each  other's  productions  were  likely  to  be  too  partial  to  be 
depended  upon.  So  Charlotte,  as  the  eldest,  resolved  to 
write  to  Southey.  I  believe  (from  an  expression  in  a  letter 
to  be  noticed  hereafter)  that  she  also  consulted  Coleridge ; 
but  I  have  not  met  with  any  part  of  that  correspondence. 

On  December  29  her  letter  to  Southey  was  despatched, 
and,  from  an  excitement  not  unnatural  in  a  girl  who  has 
worked  herself  up  to  the  pitch  of  writing  to  a  Poet  Laureate 
and  asking  his  opinion  of  her  poems,  she  used  some  high- 
flfown  expressions,  which,  probably,  gave  him  the  idea  that 
she  was  a  romantic-  young  lady,  unacquainted  with  the 
realities  of  life. 

This,  most  likely,  was  the  first  of  those  adventurous  letters 
that  passed  through  the  little  post-office  of  Haworth.  Morn- 
ing after  morning  of  the  holidays  slipped  away,  and  there 
was  no  answer ;  the  sisters  had  to  leave  home,  and  Emily 
to  return  to  her  distasteful  duties,  without  knowing  even 
whether  Charlotte'^  letter  had  ever  reached  its  destination. 

Not  dispirited,  however,  by  the  delay,  Branwell  deter- 
mined to  try  a  similar  venture,  and  addressed  the  following 
letter  to  Wordsworth.    It  was  given  by  the  poet  to  Mr. 


154 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Quillinani  in  1850,  after  the  name  of  Bronte  had  become 
known  and  famous.  I  have  no  means  of  ascertaining  what 
answer  was  returned  by  Mr.  Wordsworth;  but  that  he  con- 
sidered the  letter  remarkable  may,  I  think,  be  inferred 
both  from  its  preservation  and  its  recurrence  to  his  memory 
when  the  real  name  of  Currer  Bell  was  made  known  to  the 
public.^ 

'  Hawortb,  near  Bradford, 

Yorkshire  :  January  19,  1837. 
^  Sir, — I  most  earnestly  entreat  you  to  read  and  pass  your 
judgment  upon  what  I  have  sent  you,  because  from  the 
day  of  my  birth  to  this  the  nineteenth  year  of  my  life  I 
-  have  lived  among  secluded  hills,  where  I  could  neither 
know  what  I  was  or  what  I  could  do.  I  read  for  the  same 
reason  that  I  ate  or  drank,  because  it  was  a  real  craving  of 
nature.  I  wrote  on  the  same  principle  as  I  spoke — out  of 
the  impulse  and  feelings  of  the  mind  ;  nor  could  I  help  it, 
for  what  came,  came  out,  and  there  was  the  end  of  it.  For 
as  to  self-conceit,  that  could  not  receive  food  from  flattery, 
since  to  this  hour  not  half  a  dozen  people  in  the  world  know 
that  I  have  ever  penned  a  line. 

^  But  a  change  has  taken  place  now,  sir ;  and  I  am  ar- 
rived at  an  age  wherein  I  must  do  something  for  myself ; 
the  powers  I  possess  must  be  exercised  to  a  definite  end, 
and  as  I  don^t  know  them  myself  I  must  ask  others  what 
they  are  worth.    Yet  there  is  not  one  here  to  tell  me ;  and 

*  Edward  Quillinan  (1791-1851)  came  of  an  Irish  family,  but  was 
born  at  Oporto,  Entered  the  British  army  as  cornet  of  a  cavalry  regi- 
ment. Wrote  a  satirical  pamphlet  in  verse  entitled  The  Ball  Room 
Votaries,  and  in  1814  Dunluce  Castle,  and  Stanzas  by  the  Author  of 
'  Dunluce  Castle.'  The  Retort  Courteous  appeared  in  1821,  and  a  thrc?e- 
volume  novel,  The  Conspirators,  in  the  same  year.  Quillinan  contrib- 
uted to  Blackwood  and  the  Quarterly.  He  is  remembered  now  mainly 
by  his  marriage  with  Dorothy  Wordsworth,  the  daughter  of  the  poet. 
She  was  married  to  Quillinan  in  1841,  and  died  at  Rydal  Mount  in  1847. 

2  Somewhat  earlier  Branwell  had  begun  to  write  appealing  letters 
to  the  editor  of  Blackwood's  Magazine,  one  bearing  date  January  9, 
1837.  Three  of  his  letters  are  printed  in  Mrs,  Oliphant's  William  Black- 
wood and  his  Sons. 


1837 


LETTER  TO  WORDSWORTH 


155 


still,  if  they  are  worthless,  time  will  henceforth  be  too  pre- 
cious to  be  wasted  on  them. 

^Do  pardon  me,  sir,  that  I  have  ventured  to  come  before 
one  whose  works  I  have  most  loved  in  our  literature,  and 
who  most  has  been  with  me  a  divinity  of  the  mind,  laying 
before  him  one  of  my  writings,  and  asking  of  him  a  judg- 
ment of  its  contents.  I  must  come  before  some  one  from 
whose  sentence  there  is  no  appeal ;  and  such  a  one  is  he 
who  has  developed  the  theory  of  poetry  as  well  as  its  prac- 
tice, and  both  in  such  a  way  as  to  claim  a  place  in  the  mem- 
ory of  a  thousand  years  to  come. 

'  My  aim,  sir,  is  to  push  out  into  the  open  world,  and  for 
this  I  trust  not  poetry  alone  ;  that  might  launch  the  vessel, 
but  could  not  bear  her  on.  Sensible  and  scientific  prose, 
bold  and  vigorous  efforts  in  my  walk  in  life,  would  give  a 
further  title  to  the  notice  of  the  world  ;  and  then  again 
poetry  ought  to  brighten  and  crown  that  name  with  glory. 
But  nothing  of  all  this  can  be  ever  begun  without  means, 
and  as  I  don^t  possess  these  I  must  in  every  shape  strive  to 
gain  them.  Surely,  in  this  day,  when  there  is  not  a  toriting 
poet  worth  a  sixpence,  the  field  must  be  open,  if  a  better 
man  can  step  forward. 

'  What  I  send  you  is  the  Prefatory  Scene  of  a  much  longer 
subject,  in  which  I  have  striven  to  develop  strong  passions 
and  weak  principles  struggling  with  a  high  imagination  and 
acute  feelings,  till,  as  youth  hardens  towards  age,  evil  deeds 
and  short  enjoyments  end  in  mental  misery  and  bodily  ruin. 
Now,  to  send  you  the  whole  of  this  would  be  a  mock  upon 
your  patience  ;  what  you  see  does  not  even  pretend  to  be 
more  than  the  description  of  an  imaginative  child.  But 
read  it,  sir ;  and,  as  you  would  hold  a  light  to  one  in  utter 
darkness — as  you  value  your  own  kind-heartedness — return 
me  an  answer,  if  but  one  word,  telling  me  whether  I  should 
write  on,  or  write  no  more.  Forgive  undue  warmth,  be- 
cause my  feelings  in  this  matter  cannot  be  cool ;  and  be- 
lieve me,  sir,  with  deep  respect,  your  really  humble  servant, 

^P.  B.  Bronte.' 


156 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


The  poetry  enclosed  seems  to  me  by  no  means  equal  to 
parts  of  the  letter;  but,  as  every  one  likes  to  judge  for 
himself,  I  copy  the  six  opening  stanzas — about  a  third  of 
the  whole,  and  certainly  not  the  worst. 

So  where  He  reigns  in  glory  bright, 
Above  those  starry  skies  of  night, 
Amid  His  Paradise  of  light. 
Oh,  why  may  I  not  be? 

Oft  when  awake  on  Christmas  morn. 
In  sleepless  twilight  laid  forlorn, 
Strange  thoughts  have  o'er  my  mind  been  borne, 
How  He  has  died  for  me  ; 

And  oft,  within  my  chamber  lying. 
Have  I  awaked  myself  with  crying 
From  dreams,  where  I  beheld  Him  dying 
Upon  the  accursed  Tree  ; 

And  often  has  my  mother  said, 
While  on  her  lap  I  laid  my  head, 
She  feared  for  Time  I  was  not  made, 
But  for  Eternity. 

So  *I  can  read  my  title  clear 

To  mansions  in  the  skies, 
And  let  me  bid  farewell  to  fear, 

And  wipe  my  weeping  eyes/ 

I'll  lay  me  down  on  this  marble  stone, 

And  set  the  world  aside, 
To  see  upon  her  ebon  throne 

The  Moon  in  glory  ride. 

Soon  after  Charlotte  returned  to  Dewsbury  Moor  she 
was  distressed  by  hearing  that  her  friend  Ellen  was  likely 
to  leave  the  neighbourhood  for  a  considerable  length  of 
time. 

*  February  20. 

^  What  shall  I  do  without  you  ?  How  long  are  we  likely 
to  be  separated  ?    Why  are  we  to  be  denied  each  other's 


1837 


AT  DEWSBURY  MOOR 


157 


society  ?  It  is  an  inscrutable  fatality.  I  long  to  be  with 
you,  because  it  seems  as  if  two  or  three  days,  or  weeks, 
spent  in  your  company  would  beyond  measure  strengthen 
me  in  the  enjoyment  of  those  feelings  which  I  have  so  lately 
begun  to  cherish.  You  first  pointed  out  to  me  the  way  in 
which  I  am  so  feebly  endeavouring  to  travel,  and  now  I 
cannot  keep  you  by  my  side  I  must  proceed  sorrowfully 
alone.  Why  are  we  to  be  divided  ?  Surely  it  must  be  be- 
cause we  are  in  danger  of  loving  each  other  too  well — of 
losing  sight  of  the  Creator  in  idolatry  of  the  creature.  At 
first  I  could  not  say  ^'Thy  will  be  done  !"  I  felt  rebellious, 
but  I  knew  it  was  wrong  to  feel  so.  Being  left  a  moment 
alone  this  morning,  I  prayed  fervently  to  be  enabled  to  re- 
sign myself  to  every  decree  of  God's  will,  though  it  should 
be  dealt  forth  by  a  far  severer  hand  than  the  present  dis- 
appointment; since  then  I  have  felt  calmer  and  humbler, 
and  consequently  happier.  Last  Sunday  I  took  up  my 
Bible  in  a  gloomy  state  of  mind :  I  began  to  read — a  feel- 
ing stole  over  me  such  as  I  have  not  known  for  many  long 
years  —  a  sweet,  placid  sensation,  like  those  I  remember, 
which  used  to  visit  me  when  I  was  a  little  child,  and,  on  Sun- 
day evenings  in  summer,  stood  by  the  open  window  read- 
ing the  life  of  a  certain  French  nobleman,  who  attained  a 
purer  and  higher  degree  of  sanctity  than  has  been  known 
since  the  days  of  the  early  martyrs.' 

^Ellen's '  residence  was  equally  within  a  walk  from  Dews- 
bury  Moor  as  it  had  been  from  Roe  Head  ;  and  on  Saturday 
afternoons  both  ^  Mary '  and  she  used  to  call  upon  Charlotte, 
and  often  endeavoured  to  persuade  her  to  return  with  them, 
and  be  the  guest  of  one  of  them  till  Monday  morning ;  but 
this  was  comparatively  seldom.  Mary  says,  '  She  visited 
us  twice  or  thrice  when  she  was  at  Miss  Wooler^'s.  We 
used  to  dispute  about  politics  and  religion.  She,  a  Tory  and 
clergyman's  daughter,  was  always'  in  a  minority  of  one  in 
our  house  of  violent  Dissent  and  Radicalism.  She  used  to 
hear  over  again,  delivered  with  authority,  all  the  lectures  I 


158 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTl'E  BRONTE 


had  been  used  to  give  her  at  school  on  despotic  aristocracy, 
mercenary  priesthood,  &c.  She  had  not  energy  to  defend 
herself;  sometimes  she  owned  to  a  little  truth  in  it,  but 
generally  said  nothing.  Her  feeble  health  gave  her  her  yield- 
ing manner,  for  she  could  never  oppose  any  one  without 
gathering  up  all  her  strength  for  the  struggle.  Thus  she 
would  let  me  advise  and  patronise  most  imperiously,  some- 
times picking  out  any  grain  of  sense  there  might  be  in  what 
I  said,  but  never  allowing  any  one  materially  to  interfere 
with  her  independence  of  thought  and  action.  Though 
her  silence  sometimes  left  one  under  the  impression  that 
she  agreed  when  she  did  not,  she  never  gave  a  flattering 
opinion,  and  thus  her  words  were  golden,  whether  for  praise 
or  blame.  ^ 

^  Mary's  ^  father  was  a  man  of  remarkable  intelligence, 
but  of  strong,  not  to  say  violent  prejudices,  all  running  in 
favour  of  Republicanism  and  Dissent.  No  other  county 
but  Yorkshire  could  have  produced  such  a  man.  His 
brother  had  been  a  detenu  in  France,  and  had  afterwards 
voluntarily  taken  up  his  residence  there.  Mr.  T.*  himself 
had  been  much  abroad,  both  on  business  and  to  see  the 
great  Continental  galleries  of  paintings.  He  spoke  French 
perfectly,  I  have  been  told,  when  need  was ;  but  delighted 
usually  in  talking  the  broadest  Yorkshire.  He  bought 
splendid  engravings  of  the  pictures  which  he  particularly 
admired,  and  his  house  was  full  of  works  of  art  and  of 
books ;  but  he  rather  liked  to  present  his  rough  side  to  any 
stranger  or  new-comer;  he  would  speak  his  broadest,  bring 
out  his  opinions  on  Church  and  State  in  their  most  startling 
forms,  and,  by-and-by,  if  he  found  his  hearer  could  stand 

^  Joshua  Taylor  (died  1840),  the  Mr.  Yorke  of  Shirley,  lost  his  money 
in  his  latter  days;  but  all  his  financial  engagements  were  met  by  his 
son  Joshua,  the  'Matthew  Yorke'  of  Shirley,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  his 
surviving  daughter,  Mary,  went  to  New  Zealand  to  earn  her  living. 
The  house  of  the  Taylors  was  called  the  Red  House,  Gomersal.  It 
stands  on  the  highway  from  Gomersal  to  Bradford,  a  low  wall  with 
palisades  separating  its  pleasant  garden  from  the  road. 


1837 


A  REPUBLICAN  FAMILY 


159 


the  shock,  he  would  involuntarily  show  his  warm,  kind  heart, 
and  his  true  taste,  and  real  refinement.  His  family  of  four 
sons  and  two  daughters  were  brought  up  on  Republican 
principles;  independence  of  thought  and  action  was  en- 
couraged; no  ^  shams  ^  tolerated.  They  are  scattered  far 
and  wide :  Martha,  the  younger  daughter,  sleeps  in  the 
Protestant  cemetery  at  Brussels;  Mary  is  in  New  Zealand; 
Mr.  T.  is  dead.  And  so  life  and  death  have  dispersed  the 
circle  of  ^violent  Radicals  and  Dissenters^  into  which, 
twenty  years  ago,  the  little,  quiet,  resolute  clergyman's 
daughter  was  received,  and  by  whom  she  was  truly  loved 
and  honoured. 

January  and  February  of  1837  had  passed  away,  and  still 
there  was  no  reply  from  Southey.  Probably  she  had  lost 
expectation  and  almost  hope  when  at  length,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  March,  she  received  the  letter  inserted  in  Mr.  C.  C. 
Southey's  Life  of  his  father,  vol.  iv.  p.  327.^ 

After  accounting  for  his  delay  in  replying  to  hers  by  the 
fact  of  a  long  absence  from  home,  during  which  his  letters 
had  accumulated,  whence  ^it  has  lain  unanswered  till  the 
last  of  a  numerous  file,  not  from  disrespect  or  indifference 
to  its  contents,  but  because  in  truth  it  is  not  an  easy  task 
to  answer  it,  nor  a  pleasant  one  to  cast  a  damp  over  the  high 
spirits  and  the  generous  desires  of  youth, ^  he  goes  on  to 
say,  ^  What  you  are  I  can  only  infer  from  your  letter,  which 
appears  to  be  written  in  sincerity,  though  I  may  suspect 
that  you  have  used  a  fictitious  signature.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  the  letter  and  the  verses  bear  the  same  stamp,  and  I 
can  well  understand  the  state  of  mind  they  indicate. 

^  It  is  not  my  advice  that  you  have  asked  as  to  the 
direction  of  your  talents,  but  my  opinion  of  them,  and 

^  Robert  Southey  (1774-1843),  Poet  Laureate.  In  1837  he  was  in 
trouble,  as  he  had  just  lost  his  wife.  His  Life  and  Correspondence, 
by  his  son  Cuthbert,  was  published  in  1849-50.  Cuthbert  Southey 
died  in  1889. 


160  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


yet  the  opinion  may  be  worth  little^  and  the  advice  much. 
Yon  evidently  possess,  and  in  no  inconsiderable  degree, 
what  Wordsworth  calls  the  faculty  of  verse/^  I  am 
not  depreciating  it  when  I  say  that  in  these  times  it  is 
not  rare.  Many  volumes  of  poems  are  now  published 
every  year  without  attracting  public  attention,  any  one  of 
which,  if  it  had  appeared  half  a  century  ago,  would  have 
obtained  a  high  reputation  for  its  author.  Whoever, 
therefore,  is  ambitious  of  distinction  in  this  way  ought 
to  be  prepared  for  disappointment. 

^  But  it  is  not  with  a  view  to  distinction  that  you  should 
cultivate  this  talent,  if  you  consult  your  own  happiness.  I, 
who  have  made  literature  my  profession,  and  devoted  my 
life  to  it,  and  have  never  for  a  moment  repented  of  the 
deliberate  choice,  think  myself,  nevertheless,  bound  in 
duty  to  caution  every  young  man  who  applies  as  an  as- 
pirant to  me  for  encouragement  and  advice  against  tak- 
ing so  perilous  a  course.  You  will  say  that  a  woman  has 
no  need  of  such  a  caution ;  there  can  be  no  peril  in  it  for 
her.  In  a  certain  sense  this  is  true  ;  but  there  is  a  danger 
of  which  I  would,  with  all  kindness  and  all  earnestness, 
warn  you.  The  day  dreams  in  which  you  habitually  in- 
dulge are  likely  to  induce  a  distempered  state  of  mind ; 
and,  in  proportion  as  all  the  ordinary  uses  of  the  world 
seem  to  you  flat  and  unprofitable,  you  will  be  unfitted  for 
them  without  becoming  fitted  for  anything  else.  Litera- 
ture cannot  be  the  business  of  a  woman^s  life,  and  it  ought 
not  to  be.  The  more  she  is  engaged  in  her  proper  duties, 
the  less  leisure  will  she  have  for  it,  even  as  an  accomplish- 
ment and  a  recreation.  To  those  duties  you  have  not  yet 
been  called,  and  when  you  are  you  will  be  less  eager  for 
celebrity.  You  will  not  seek  in  imagination  for  excite- 
ment, of  which  the  vicissitudes  of  this  life,  and  the  anxie- 
ties from  which  you  must  not  hope  to  be  exempted,  be 
your  state  what  it  may,  will  bring  with  them  but  too  much. 

^But  do  not  suppose  that  I  disparage  the  gift  which  you 
possess,  nor  that  I  would  discourage  you  from  exercising  it. 


1837 


LETTER  FROM  SOUTHEY 


161 


I  only  exhort  you  so  to  think  of  it^  and  so  to  use  it,  as  to 
render  it  conducive  to  your  own  permanent  good.  Write 
poetry  for  its  own  sake  ;  not  in  a  spirit  of  emulation,  and 
not  with  a  view  to  celebrity  ;  the  less  you  aim  at  that  the 
more  likely  you  will  be  to  deserve  and  finally  to  obtain  it. 
So  written  it  is  wholesome  both  for  the  heart  and  soul ;  it 
may  be  made  the  surest  means,  next  to  religion,  of  soothing 
the  mind  and  elevating  it.  You  may  embody  in  it  your 
best  thoughts  and  your  wisest  feelings,  and  in  so  doing 
discipline  and  strengthen  them. 

'  Farewell,  madam.  It  is  not  because  I  have  forgotten 
that  I  was  once  young  myself  that  I  write  to  you  in  this 
strain,  but  because  I  remember  it.  You  will  neither  doubt 
my  sincerity  nor  my  good-will;  and  however  ill  what  has 
here  been  said  may  accord  with  your  present  views  and 
temper,  the  longer  you  live  the  more  reasonable  it  will  ap- 
pear to  you.  Though  I  may  be  an  ungracious  adviser,  you 
will  allow  me,  therefore,  to  subscribe  myself,  with  the  best 
wishes  for  your  happiness  here  and  hereafter,  your  friend, 

'  Robert  Southey.^ 


I  was  with  Miss  Bronte  when  she  received  Mr.  Cuthbert 
Southey's  note,  requesting  her  permission  to  insert  the  fore- 
going letter  in  his  father^s  Life.  She  said  to  me,  ^Mr. 
Southey^s  letter  was  kind  and  admirable  ;  a  little  stringent, 
but  it  did  me  good.^ 

It  is  partly  because  I  think  it  so  admirable,  and  partly 
because  it  tends  to  bring  out  her  character,  as  shown  in  the 
following  reply,  that  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  inserting 
the  foregoing  extracts  from  it. 

^  *  March  16. 

— I  cannot  rest  till  I  have  answered  your  letter, 
^l^^^ough  by  addressing  you  a  second  time  I  should  ap- 

^e^^pfttle  intrusive ;  but  I  must  thank  you  for  the  kind  and 
wise  advice  you  have  condescended  to  give  me.    I  had  not 
ventured  to  hope  for  such  a  reply  ;  so  considerate  in  its  tone, 
11 


162  life;  of  charlotte  BRONTfi 

so  noble  in  its  spirit.  I  must  suppress  what  I  feel,  or  voa 
will  think  me  foolishly  enthusiastic. 

'At  the  first  perusal  of  your  letter  I  felt  only  shame  and 
regret  that  I  had  ever  ventured  to  trouble  you  with  my 
crude  rhapsody  ;  I  felt  a  painful  heat  rise  to  my  face  when 
1  thought  of  the  quires  of  paper  I  had  covered  with  what 
once  gave  me  so  much  delight,  bat  which  now  was  only  a 
source  of  confusion  ;  but  after  I  had  thought  a  little,  and 
i^ad  It  again  and  again,  the  prospect  seemed  to  clear 
i^ou  do  not  forbid  me  to  write;  you  do  not  say  that  what 
I  write  IS  utterly  destitute  of  merit.    You  only  warn  me 
against  the  folly  of  neglecting  real  duties  for  the  sake  of 
imaginative  pleasures ;  of  writing  for  the  love  of  fame  •  for 
the  selfish  excitement  of  emulation.    You  kindly  allow 
me  to  write  poetry  for  its  own  sake,  provided  I  leave  un- 
done nothing  which  I  ought  to  do,  in  order  to  pursue  that 
single,  absorbing,  exquisite  gratification.    I  am  afraid,  sir, 
you  think  me  very  foolish.    I  know  the  first  letter  I  wrote 
to  you  was  all  senseless  trash  from  beginning  to  end  ;  but 
I  am  not  altogether  the  idle  dreaming  being  it  would  seem 
to  denote.    My  father  is  a  clergyman  of  limited  though 
competent  income,  and  I  am  the  eldest  of  his  children 
He  expended  quite  as  much  in  my  education  as  he  could 
afford  in  justice  to  the  rest.    I  thought  it  therefore  my 
duty,  when  I  left  school,  to  become  a  governess.    In  that 
capacity  I  find  enough  to  occupy  my  thoughts  all  daylong,  j 
and  my  head  and  hands  too,  without  having  a  moment's  > 
time  for  one  dream  of  the  imagination.    In  the  evenings,  ' 
1  confess,  I  do  think,  but  I  never  trouble  any  one  else  with 
my  thoughts.    I  carefully  avoid  any  appearance  of  preoc- 
cupation and  eccentricity,  which  might  lead  those  I  live 
amongst  to  suspect  the  nature  of  my  pursuits.  Following- 
my  father's  advice— who  from  my  childhood  has  conj 
seiled  me,  just  in  the  wise  and  friendly  tone  of  yoii^ijMl 
—I  have  endeavoured  not  only  attentively  to  ob^^HL 
the  duties  a  woman  ought  to  fulfil,  but  to  feel  deS!  in- 
terested  in  them.    I  don't  always  succeed,  for  sometimes 


1837 


LETTER  FROM  SOUTHEY 


163 


when  Fm  teaching  or  sewing  I  would  rather  be  reading  or. 
writing ;  but  I  try  to  deny  myself;  and  my  father's  appr 
bation  amply  rewarded  me  for  the  privation.    Once  r 
allow  me  to  thank  you  with  sincere  gratitude.    1 } 
shall  never  more  feel  ambitious  to  see  my  name  i;p^ 
the  wish  should  rise,  I'll  look  at  Southey's  lettei 
press  it.   It  is  honour  enough  for  me  that  I  hav- 
him,  and  received  an  answer.    That  letter  ir-onsec. 
no  one  shall  ever  see  it  but  papa  and  my  ^c>ther  and  ^ 
ters.    Again  I  thank  you.    This  incid'^^^  ^  suppose,  wilij 
be  renewed  no  more;  if  I  Y     to  be  -       woman,  I  shallj 
remember  it  thirty  years  hence  ^  ^  bright  dream.  The! 
signature  which  you  suspected  ^  being  fictitious  is  my  real 
name.    Again,  therefore,  I  m^st  sign  myself 

'C.  Bronte.* 

^p.S.— Pray,  sir,  excu^e  me  for  writing  to  you  a  seconc 
time  ;  I  could  not  he^J  writing,  partly  to  tell  you  ho\^ 
thankful  I  am  for  yrar  kindness,  and  partly  to  let  yoi 
know  that  your  advioe  shall  not  be  wasted,  however  sor 
rowfully  and  reluctantly  it  may  at  first  be  followed. 

I  cannot  deny  myself  the  gratification  of  insertinj 
Southey's  reiAv  : — 

^  Keswick  :  March  22,  1837.  ! 
'  Dear  Madam,— Your  letter  has  given  me  great  pleasure 
and  I  should  not  forgive  myself  if  I  did  not  tell  you  so 
You  have  r^aceived  admonition  as  considerately  and  a 
kindly  as  it  was  given.  Let  me  now  request  that,  if  yo 
ever  should  come  to  these  Lakes  while  I  am  living  here 
you  will  let  me  see  you.  You  would  then  think  of  m 
afterwards  ^with  the  more  good  -  will,  because  you  woul 
perceive  tb  at  there  is  neither  severity  nor  moroseness  i 
the  Stat  of  mind  to  which  years  and  observation  haV 
brougl  li^  le. 

'It  it  oy  God's  meroy,  in  our  power  to  attain  a  degrej 
of  self-  government,  which  is  essential  to  our  own  happ: 


164 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


ness,  and  contributes  greatly  to  that  of  those  around  us. 
Take  care  of  over  -  excitement,  and  endeavour  to  keep  a 
quiet  mind  (even  for  your  health  it  is  the  best  advice  that 
n  be  given  you):  your  moral  and  spiritual  improvement 
'  then  keep  pace  with  the  culture  of  your  intellectual 

_-^|^^^^^nadam,  God  bless  you! 

*  J^arewell,      }qq\[qyq  nie  to  be  your  sincere  friend, 

'Robert  Southey/ 

Of  this  second  lette.:^iso^  she  spoke,  and  told  me  that 
It  contained  an  invitation ^-^r  her  to  go  and  see  the  poet 
if  ever  she  visited  the  Lakt;.  ^  But  there  was  no  money 
to  spare,'  said  she,  'nor  any  ii^bspect  of  my  ever  earning 
money  enough  to  have  the  chaii^e  of  so  great  a  pleasure, 
so  I  gave  up  thinking  of  it/  At  the  time  we  conversed 
together  on  the  subject  we  were  at  Ue  Lakes.  But  Southey 
was  dead. 

This  '  stringent  Metter  made  her  pU  aside,  for  a  time, 
all  idea  of  literary  enterprise.  She  beat  her  whole  energy 
towards  the  fulfilment  of  the  duties  \n  hand;  but  her 
occupation  was  not  sufficient  food  for  hor  great  forces  of 
intellect,  and  they  cried  out  perpetuallj,  'Give,  give,' 
while  the  comparatively  less  breezy  air  of  Dewsbury  Moor 
told  upon  her  health  and  spirits  more  and  more.  On 
August  27,  1837,  she  writes  :— 

'  I  am  again  at  Dewsbury/  engaged  in  th  less— 
teach,  teach,  teach.  .  .  .  When  will  you  co  Make 
haste !    You  have  been  at  Bath  long  enoi  pur- 

^  Miss  Wooler's  school  was  called  Heald's  House,  Vribt 

It' was  near  Squirrel  Hall,  where  Hammond  Robe  first 

residence  and  school.    The  house  is  rather  a  notewc  iving 

been  used  by  the  followers  of  George  Fox  as  a  mee  tid  it 

was  the  birthplace  of  the  Rev.  W.  M.  Heald,  who  i  his 

son  some  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Rev.  Cyril  Hal.  [The 
Bronte  Country,  by  J.  A.  Erskine  Stuart). 


1837 


HOME-SICKNESS 


165 


poses ;  by  this  time  you  have  acquired  polish  enough^  I  am 
sure ;  if  the  varnish  is  laid  on  much  thicker,  I  am  afraid 
the  good  wood  underneath  will  be  quite  concealed,  and 
your  Yorkshire  friends  won^t  stand  that.  Come,  come.  I 
am  getting  really  tired  of  your  absence.  Saturday  after 
Saturday  comes  round,  and  I  can  have  no  hope  of  hearing 
your  knock  at  the  door,  and  then  being  told  that  Miss 
Ellen  is  come.^^  Oh,  dear  !  in  this  monotonous  life  of  mine 
that  was  a  pleasant  event.  I  wish  it  would  recur  again  ; 
but  it  will  take  two  or  three  interviews  before  the  stiffness 
- — the  estrangement  of  this  long  separation  —  will  wear 
away/  ^ 

About  this  time  she  forgot  to  return  a  work-bag  she  had 
borrowed,  by  a  messenger,  and  in  repairing  her  error  she 
says,  ^  These  aberrations  of  memory  warn  me  pretty  intel- 
ligibly that  I  am  getting  past  my  prime.^  ^Etat.  21 !  And 
the  same  tone  of  despondency  runs  through  the  following 
letter : — 

^  I  wish  exceedingly  that  I  could  come  to  you  before 
Christmas,  but  it  is  impossible  ;  another  three  weeks  must 
elapse  before  I  shall  again  have  my  comforter  beside  me, 
under  the  roof  of  my  own  dear  quiet  home.  If  I  could 
always  live  with  you,  and  daily  read  the  Bible  with  you — 
if  your  lips  and  mine  could  at  the  same  time  drink  the 
same  draught,  from  the  same  pure  fountain  of  mercy — I 
hope,  I  trust,  I  might  one  day  become  better,  far  better 
than  my  evil,  wandering  thoughts,  my  corrupt  heart,  cold 
to  the  spirit  and  warm  to  the  flesh,  will  now  permit  me 
to  be.  I  often  plan  the  pleasant  life  which  we  might  lead 
together,  strengthening  each  other  in  that  power  of  self- 
denial,  that  hallowed  and  glowing  devotion,  which  the  first 

^  Another  extract  from  the  same  letter  was  as  follows  : — 
*  Miss  Eliza  Wooler  and  Mrs.  Wooler  are  coming  here  next  Christ- 
mas. Miss  Wooler  will  then  relinquish  the  school  in  favour  of  her  sis- 
ter Eliza,  but  I  am  happy  to  say  worthy  Miss  Wooler  will  continue 
to  reside  in  the  house.    I  should  be  sorry  indeed  to  part  with  her.' 


166 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


saints  of  God  often  attained  to.  My  eyes  fill  with  tears 
when  I  contrast  the  bliss  of  such  a  state,  brightened  by 
hopes  of  the  future,  with  the  melancholy  state  I  now  live 
in,  uncertain  that  I  ever  felt  true  contrition,  wandering  in 
thought  and  deed,  longing  for  holiness,  which  I  shall  never, 
never  obtain,  smitten  at  times  to  the  heart  with  the  convic- 
tion that*  ghastly  Calvinistic  doctrines  are  true — darkened, 
in  short,  by  the  very  shadows  of  spiritual  death.  If  Chris- 
tian perfection  be  necessary  to  salvation,  I  shall  never  be 
saved  ;  my  heart  is  a  very  hotbed  for  sinful  thoughts,  and 
when  I  decide  on  an  action  I  scarcely  remember  to  look 
to  my  Redeemer  for  direction.  I  know  not  how  to  pray  ; 
I  cannot  bend  my  life  to  the  grand  end  of  doing  good ;  I  go 
on  constantly  seeking  my  own  pleasure,  pursuing  the  grat- 
ification of  my  own  desires.  I  forget  God,  and  will  not 
God  forget  me  ?  And,  meantime,  I  know  the  greatness  of 
Jehovah  ;  I  acknowledge  the  perfection  of  His  word ;  I 
adore  the  purity  of  the  Christian  faith;  my  theory  is  right, 
my  practice  horribly  wrong.' 

The  Christmas  holidays  came,  and  she  and  Anne  re- 
turned to  the  parsonage,  and  to  that  happy  home  circle  in 
which  alone  their  natures  expanded  ;  amongst  all  other 
people  they  shrivelled  up  more  or  less.  Indeed,  there 
were  only  one  or  two  strangers  who  could  be  admitted 
among  the  sisters  without  producing  the  same  result. 
Emily  and  Anne  were  bound  up  in  their  lives  and  inter- 
ests like  twins.  The  former  from  reserve,  the  latter  from 
timidity,  avoided  all  friendships  and  intimacies  beyond 
their  family.  Emily  was  impervious  to  influence ;  she 
never  came  in  contact  with  public  opinion,  and  her  own 
decision  of  what  was  right  and  fitting  was  a  law  for  her 
conduct  and  appearance,  with  which  she  allowed  no  one 
to  interfere.    Her  love  was  poured  out  on  Anne,  as  Char- 

*  In  the  original  letter  the  name  is  erased,  but  it  stands  *  's 

ghastly  Calvinistic  doctrines.' 


1837 


TABBY'S  ILLNESS 


167 


lotte's  was  on  her.  But  the  affection  among  all  the  three 
was  stronger  than  either  death  or  life. 

^  Ellen  ^  was  eagerly  welcomed  by  Charlotte,  freely  ad- 
mitted by  Emily,  and  kindly  received  by  Anne,  whenever 
she  could  visit  them  ;  and  this  Christmas  she  had  prom- 
ised to  do  so,  but  her  coming  had  to  be  delayed  on  account 
of  a  little  domestic  accident  detailed  in  the  following  let- 
ter : — 

'December  29,1837. 
'  I  am  sure  you  will  have  thought  me  very  remiss  in 
not  sending  my  promised  letter  long  before  now  ;  but  I 
have  a  sufficient  and  very  melancholy  excuse  in  an  acci- 
dent that  befell  our  old  faithful  Tabby,  a  few  days  after 
my  return  home.  She  was  gone  out  into  the  village  on 
some  errand,  when,  as  she  was  descending  the  steep  street, 
her  foot  slipped  on  the  ice,  and  she  fell :  it  was  dark,  and 
no  one  saw  her  mischance,  till  after  a  time  her  groans  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  a  passer-by.  She  was  lifted  up 
and  carried  into  the  druggist's  near ;  and,  after  the  exam- 
ination, it  was  discovered  that  she  had  completely  shatter- 
ed and  dislocated  one  leg.  Unfortunately,  the  fracture 
could  not  be  set  till  six  o'clock  the  next  morning,  as  no 
surgeon  was  to  be  had  before  that  time,  and  she  now  lies 
at  our  house  in  a  very  doubtful  and  dangerous  state.  Of 
course  we  are  all  exceedingly  distressed  at  the  circum- 
stance, for  she  was  like  one  of  our  own  family.  Since  the 
event  we  have  been  almost  without  assistance  —  a  person 
has  dropped  in  now  and  then  to  do  the  drudgery,  but  we 
have  as  yet  been  able  to  procure  no  regular  servant ;  and 
consequently  the  whole  work  of  the  house,  as  well  as 
the  additional  duty  of  nursing  Tabby,  falls  on  ourselves. 
Under  these  circumstances  I  dare  not  press  your  visit  here, 
at  least  until  she  is  pronounced  out  of  danger ;  it  would 
be  too  selfish  of  me.  Aunt  wished  me  to  give  you  this 
information  before,  but  papa  and  all  the  rest  were  anxious 
I  should  delay  until  we  saw  whether  matters  took  a  more 
settled  aspect,  and  I  myself  kept  putting  it  off  from  day  to 


168 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


day,  most  bitterly  relnctant  to  give  up  all  the  pleasure  I 
had  anticipated  so  long.  However,  remembering  what  you 
told  me,  namely,  that  you  had  commended  the  matter  to  a 
higher  decision  than  ours,  and  that  you  were  resolved  to 
submit  with  resignation  to  that  decision,  whatever  it  might 
be,  I  hold  it  my  duty  to  yield  also,  and  to  be  silent ;  it  may 
be  all  for  the  best.  I  fear,  if  you  had  been  here  during 
this  severe  weather,  your  visit  would  have  been  of  no  ad- 
vantage to  you,  for  the  moors  are  blockaded  with  snow, 
and  you  would  never  have  been  able  to  get  out.  After  this 
disappointment  I  never  dare  reckon  with  certainty  on  the 
enjoyment  of  a  pleasur  eagain  ;  it  seems  as  if  some  fatal- 
ity stood  between  you  and  me.  I  am  not  good  enough  for 
you,  and  you  must  be  kept  from  the  contamination  of  too 
intimate  society.  I  would  urge  your  visit  yet — I  would 
entreat  and  press  it — but  the  thought  comes  across  me, 
should  Tabby  die  while  you  are  in  the  house,  I  should 
never  forgive  myself.  No  !  it  must  not  be,  and  in  a  thou- 
sand ways  the  consciousness  of  that  mortifies  and  disap- 
points me  most  keenly,  and  I  am  not  the  only  one  who 
is  disappointed.  All  in  the  house  were  looking  to  your 
visit  with  eagerness.  Papa  says  he  highly  approves  of  my 
friendship  with  you,  and  he  wishes  me  to  continue  it 
through  life.^ 

A  good  neighbour  of  the  Brontes — a  clever,  intelligent 
Yorkshire  woman,  who  keeps  a  druggist's  shop  in  Ha- 
worth,^  and,  from  her  occupation,  her  experience,  and  ex- 
cellent sense,  holds  the  position  of  village  doctoress  and 
nurse,  and,  as  such,  has  been  a  friend,  in  many  a  time  of 
trial,  and  sickness,  and  death  in  the  households  round — 
told  me  a  characteristic  little  incident  connected  with 
Tabby's  fractured  leg.    Mr.  Bronte  is  truly  generous  and 

*  This  was  Elizabeth  Hardaker,  who  was  always  known  in  Haworth 
as  'Betty.'  Her  brother,  Ben  Hardaker,  went  to  live  in  Bradford, 
and  published  a  volume  of  verse  there  in  1874.  *  Betty '  was  called  in 
to  see  Charlotte  during  her  last  illness.    She  died  in  1888. 


183?  AN  ILLIBERAL  PROPOSAL 


regardful  of  all  deserving  claims.  Tabby  had  lived  with 
them  for  ten  or  twelve  years,  and  was,  as  Charlotte  ex- 
pressed it,  ^one  of  the  family/  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
she  was  past  the  age  for  any  very  active  service,  being 
nearer  seventy  than  sixty  at  the  time  of  the  accident ;  she 
had  a  sister  living  in  the  village,  and  the  savings  she  had 
accumulated,  during  many  years^  service,  formed  a  com- 
petency for  one  in  her  rank  of  life.  Or  if,  in  this  time  of 
sickness,  she  fell  short  of  any  comforts  which  her  state 
rendered  necessary,  the  parsonage  could  supply  them.  So 
reasoned  Miss  Branwell,  the  prudent,  not  to  say  anxious 
aunt,  looking  to  the  limited  contents  of  Mr.  Bronte's 
purse,  and  the  unprovided -for  future  of  her  nieces,  who 
were,  moreover,  losing  the  relaxation  of  the  holidays,  in 
close  attendance  upon  Tabby.* 

Miss  Branwell  urged  her  views  upon  Mr.  Bronte  as  soon 
as  the  immediate  danger  to  the  old  servant's  life  was  over. 
He  refused  at  first  to  listen  to  the  careful  advice ;  it  was 
repugnant  to  his  liberal  nature.  But  Miss  Branwell  per- 
severed ;  urged  economical  motives  ;  pressed  on  his  love 
for  his  daughters.  He  gave  way.  Tabby  was  to  be  re- 
moved to  her  sister's,  and  there  nursed  and  cared  for, 
Mr.  Bronte  coming  in  with  his  aid  when  her  own  re- 
sources fell  short.  This  decision  was  communicated  to 
the  girls.  There  were  symptoms  of  a  quiet  but  sturdy 
rebellion,  that  winter  afternoon,  in  the  small  precincts  of 
Haworth  Parsonage.  They  made  one  unanimous  and 
stiff  remonstrance.  Tabby  had  tended  them  in  their  child- 
hood ;  they,  and  none  other,  should  tend  her  in  her  in- 
firmity and  age.  At  tea-time  they  were  sad  and  silent, 
and  the  meal  went  away  untouched  by  any  of  the  three. 
So  it  was  at  breakfast ;  they  did  not  waste  many  words 

^  Tabby  died  only  a  month  before  her  young  mistress.  Her  grave, 
which  is  very  near  to  the  wall  that  separates  the  parsonage  from  the 
churchyard,  is  inscribed — 

*  Tdbitha  Aykroyd,  of  Haworth,  who  died  Feb,  17 thy  1855,  in  the  86th 
year  of  her  age.'* 


170 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


on  the  subject,  but  each  word  they  did  utter  was  weighty. 
They  ^ struck^  eating  till  the  resolution  was  rescinded, 
and  Tabby  was  allowed  to  remain  a  helpless  invalid  en- 
tirely dependent  upon  them.  Herein  was  the  strong  feel- 
ing of  Duty  being  paramount  to  pleasure,  which  lay  at 
the  foundation  of  Oharlotte^s  character,  made  most  appa- 
rent ;  for  we  have  seen  how  she  yearned  for  her  friend's 
company  :  but  it  was  to  be  obtained  only  by  shrinking 
from  what  she  esteemed  right,  and  that  she  never  did, 
whatever  might  be  the  sacrifice. 

She  had  another  weight  on  her  mind  this  Christmas.  I 
have  said  that  the  air  of  Dewsbury  Moor  did  not  agree 
with  her,  though  she  herself  was  hardly  aware  how  much 
her  life  there  was  affecting  her  health.  But  Anne  had 
begun  to  suffer  just  before  the  holidays,  and  Charlotte 
watched  over  her  younger  sisters  with  the  jealous  vigilance 
of  some  wild  creature,  that  changes  her  very  nature  if 
danger  threatens  her  young.  Anne  had  a  slight  cough,  a 
pain  at  her  side,  a  diflBculty  of  breathing.  Miss  Wooler 
considered  it  as  little  more  than  a  common  cold  ;  but  Char- 
lotte felt  every  indication  of  incipient  consumption  as  a 
stab  at  her  heart,  remembering  Maria  and  Elizabeth,  whose 
places  once  knew  them,  and  should  know  them  no  more. 

Stung  by  anxiety  for  this  little  sister,  she  upbraided  Miss 
Wooler  for  her  fancied  indifference  to  Anne's  state  of 
health.  Miss  Wooler  felt  these  reproaches  keenly,  and 
wrote  to  Mr.  Bronte  about  them.  He  immediately  replied 
most  kindly,  expressing  his  fear  that  Charlotte's  appre- 
hensions and  anxieties  respecting  her  sister  had  led  her 
to  give  utterance  to  over -excited  expressions  of  alarm. 
Through  Miss  Wooler's  kind  consideration  Anne  was  a  year 
longer  at  school  than  her  friends  intended.  At  the  close 
of  the  half  year  Miss  Wooler  sought  for  the  opportunity  of 
an  explanation  of  each  other's  words,  and  the  issue  proved 
that  ^  the  falling  out  of  faithful  friends  renewing  is  of 
love.'  And  so  ended  the  first,  last,  and  only  difference 
Charlotte  ever  had  with  good,  kind  Miss  Wooler. 


1838 


RETURN  TO  HAWORTH 


171 


Still  her  heart  had  received  a  shock  in  the  perception  of 
Anne^s  delicacy ;  and  all  these  holidays  she  watched  over 
her  with  the  longing,  fond  anxiety  which  is  so  full  of  sud- 
den pangs  of  fear. 

Emily  had  given  up  her  situation  in  the  Halifax  school 
at  the  expiration  of  six  months  of  arduous  trial,  on  ac- 
count of  her  health,  which  could  only  be  re-established 
by  the  bracing  moorland  air  and  free  life  of  home.  Tab- 
by^s  illness  had  preyed  on  the  family  resources.  I  doubt 
whether  Branwell  was  maintaining  himself  at  this  time. 
For  some  unexplained  reason  he  had  given  up  the  idea 
of  becoming  a  student  of  painting  at  the  Royal  Acade- 
my, and  his  prospects  in  life  were  uncertain,  and  had  yet 
to  be  settled.  So  Charlotte  had  quietly  to  take  up  her 
burden  of  teaching  again,  and  return  to  her  previous  mo- 
notonous life. 

Brave  heart,  ready  to  die  in  harness  !  She  went  back  to 
her  work,  and  made  no  complaint,  hoping  to  subdue  the 
weakness  that  was  gaining  ground  upon  her.  About  this 
time  she  would  turn  sick  and  trembling  at  any  sudden  noise, 
and  could  hardly  repress  her  screams  when  startled.  This 
showed  a  fearful  degree  of  physical  weakness  in  one  who 
was  generally  so  self  -  controlled  ;  and  the  medical  man, 
whom  at  length,  through  Miss  Wooler's  entreaty,  she  was 
led  to  consult,  insisted  on  her  return  to  the  parsonage. 
She  had  led  too  sedentary  a  life,  he  said  ;  and  the  soft  sum- 
mer air,  blowing  round  her  home,  the  sweet  company  of 
those  she  loved,  the  release,  the  freedom  of  life  in  her  own 
family,  were  needed  to  save  either  reason  or  life.  So,  as 
One  higher  than  she  had  overruled  that  for  a  time  she 
might  relax  her  strain,  she  returned  to  Haworth  ;  and, 
after  a  season  of  utter  quiet,  her  father  sought  for  her  the 
enlivening  society  of  her  two  friends  Mary  and  Martha 
(Taylor).  At  the  conclusion  of  the  following  letter,  writ- 
ten to  the  then  absent  '  Ellen,^  there  is,  I  think,  as  pretty 
a  glimpse  of  a  merry  group  of  young  people  as  need  be; 
and,  like  all  descriptions  of  doing,  as  distinct  from  think- 


172 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


ing  or  feeling,  in  letters,  it  saddens  one  in  proportion  to 
the  vivacity  of  the  picture  of  what  was  once,  and  is  now 
utterly  swept  away. 

*  Haworth  :  June  9,  1838. 
received  your  packet  of  despatches  on  Wednesday; 
it  was  brought  me  by  Mary  and  Martha,  who  have  been 
staying  at  Haworth  for  a  few  days  ;  they  leave  us  to-day. 
You  will  be  surprised  at  the  date  of  this  letter.  I  ought 
to  be  at  Dewsbury  Moor,  you  know;  but  I  stayed  as  long 
as  I  was  able,  and  at  length  I  neither  could  nor  dared  stay 
any  longer.  My  health  and  spirits  had  utterly  failed  me, 
and  the  medical  man  whom  I  consulted  enjoined  me,  as  I 
valued  my  life,  to  go  home.  So  home  I  went,  and  the 
change  has  at  once  roused  and  soothed  me  ;  and  I  am  now, 
I  trust,  fairly  in  the  way  to  be  myself  again. 

^  A  calm  and  even  mind  like  yours  cannot  conceive  the 
feelings  of  the  shattered  wretch  who  is  now  writing  to  you, 
when,  after  weeks  of  mental  and  bodily  anguish  not  to  be 
described,  something  like  peace  began  to  dawn  again. 
Mary  Taylor  is  far  from  well.  She  breathes  short,  has  a 
pain  in  her  chest,  and  frequent  flushings  of  fever.  I  can- 
not tell  you  what  agony  these  symptoms  give  me ;  they 
remind  me  too  strongly  of  my  two  sisters,  whom  no  pow- 
er of  medicine  could  save.  Martha  is  now  very  well ; 
she  has  kept  in  a  continual  flow  of  good  humour  during 
her  stay  here,  and  has  consequently  been  very  fascinat- 
ing. .  .  . 

^They  are  making  such  a  noise  about  me  I  cannot  write 
any  more.  Mary  is  playing  on  the  piano  ;  Martha  is  chat- 
tering as  fast  as  her  little  tongue  can  run  ;  and  Branwell  is 
standing  before  her,  laughing  at  her  vivacity.^ 

Charlotte  grew  much  stronger  in  this  quiet,  happy  period 
at  home.  She  paid  occasional  visits  to  her  two  great  friends, 
and  they  in  return  came  to  Haworth.  At  one  of  their  houses, 
I  suspect,  she  met  with  the  person  to  whom  the  following 
letter  refers — some  one  having  a  slight  resemblance  to  the 


1839 


FIRST  OFFER  OF  MARRIAGE 


173 


character  of  ^St.  John^  in  the  last  volume  of  ^  Jane  Eyre/ 
and,  like  him,  in  holy  orders/ 

*  March  12,  1839. 

^.  .  .  I  had  a  kindly  leaning  towards  him,  becanse  he  is 
an  amiable  and  well-disposed  man.  Yet  I  had  not,  and 
could  not  have,  that  intense  attachment  which  would  make 
me  willing  to  die  for  him ;  and  if  ever  I  marry  it  must  be 
in  that  light  of  adoration  that  I  will  regard  my  husband. 
Ten  to  one  I  shall  never  have  the  chance  again ;  but  n'im- 
porte.  Moreover,  I  was  aware  that  he  knew  so  little  of  me 
he  could  hardly  be  conscious  to  whom  he  was  writing. 
Why  !  it  would  startle  him  to  see  me  in  my  natural  home 
character ;  he  would  think  I  was  a  wild,  romantic  enthu- 
siast indeed.    I  could  not  sit  all  day  long  making  a  grave 

^  This  was  the  Rev.  Henry  Nussey,  the  brother  of  her  friend.  Miss 
Bronte's  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey  from  which  Mrs.  Gaskell  extracted  the 
above  passage  contained  also  the  following  : — 

'  You  ask  me,  my  dear  Ellen,  whether  I  have  received  a  letter  from 
Henry.  I  have,  about  a  week  since.  The  contents,  I  confess,  did  a 
little  surprise  me,  but  I  kept  them  to  myself,  and  unless  you  had 
questioned  me  on  the  subject  I  would  never  have  adverted  to  it. 
Henry  says  he  is  comfortably  settled  at  Donnington,  that  his  health 
is  much  improved,  and  that  it  is  his  iotention  to  take  pupils  after 
Easter.  He  then  intimates  that  in  due  time  he  should  want  a  wife  to 
take  care  of  his  pupils,  and  frankly  asks  me  to  be  that  wife.  Alto- 
gether the  letter  is  written  without  cant  or  flattery,  and  in  a  common- 
sense  style,  which  does  credit  to  his  judgment. 

*  Now,  my  dear  Ellen,  there  were  in  this  proposal  some  things 
which  might  have  proved  a  strong  temptation.  I  thought  if  I  were 
to  marry  Henry  Nussey  his  sister  could  live  with  me,  and  how  happy 
I  should  be.  But  again  I  asked  myself  two  questions :  Do  I  love  him 
as  much  as  a  woman  ought  to  love  the  man  she  marries  ?  Am  I  the 
person  best  qualified  to  make  him  happy  ?  Alas !  Ellen,  my  con- 
science answered  no  to  both  these  questions.* 

Henry  Nussey  was  at  this  time  a  curate  at  Donnington,  in  Sussex. 
He  afterwards  became  rector  of  Earnley,  near  Chichester,  and  later  of 
Hathersage,  in  Derbyshire.  Miss  Bronte,  in  refusing  the  proposed 
offer  of  marriage,  suggested  certain  characteristics  which  she  declared 
were  desirable  in  the  wife  of  a  clergyman.  Six  months  later  Mr.  Nussey 
wrote  to  inform  her  of  his  engagement  to  another,  and  Charlotte  BrontQ 
replied  in  a  letter  of  considerable  length. 


174 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


face  before  my  husband.  I  would  laugh,  and  satirise,  and 
say  whatever  came  into  my  head  first.  And  if  he  were  a 
clever  man,  and  loved  me,  the  whole  world,  weighed  in  the 
balance  against  his  smallest  wish,  should  be  light  as  air.' 

So  that — her  first  proposal  of  marriage — was  quietly  de- 
clined and  put  on  one  side.  Matrimony  did  not  enter  into 
the  scheme  of  her  life,  but  good,  sound,  earnest  labour 
did;  the  question,  however,  was  as  yet  undecided  in  what 
direction  she  should  employ  her  forces.  She  had  been  dis- 
couraged in  literature ;  her  eyes  failed  her  in  the  minute 
kind  of  drawing  which  she  practised  when  she  wanted  to 
express  an  idea ;  teaching  seemed  to  her  at  this  time,  as  it 
does  to  most  women  at  all  times,  the  only  way  of  earning 
an  independent  livelihood.  But  neither  she  nor  her  sis- 
ters were  naturally  fond  of  children.  The  hieroglyphics  of 
childhood  were  an  unknown  language  to  them,  for  they 
had  never  been  much  with  those  younger  than  themselves. 
I  am  inclined  to  think,  too,  that  they  had  not  the  happy 
knack  of  imparting  information,  which  seems  to  be  a  sep- 
arate gift  from  the  faculty  of  acquiring  it ;  a  kind  of  sym- 
pathetic tact,  which  instinctively  perceives  the  difficulties 
that  impede  comprehension  in  a  child's  mind,  and  that  yet 
are  too  vague  and  unformed  for  it,  with  its  half-developed 
powers  of  expression,  to  explain  by  words.  Consequently, 
teaching  very  young  children  was  anything  but  a  ^  delight- 
ful task'  to  the  three  Bronte  sisters.  With  older  girls, 
verging  on  womanhood,  they  might  have  done  better,  es- 
pecially if  these  had  any  desire  for  improvement.  But  the 
education  which  the  village  clergyman's  daughters  had  re- 
ceived, did  not  as  yet  qualify  them  to  undertake  the  charge 
of  advanced  pupils.  They  knew  but  little  French,  and 
were  not  proficients  in  music ;  I  doubt  whether  Charlotte 
could  play  at  all.  But  they  were  all  strong  again,  and,  at 
any  rate,  Charlotte  and  Anne  must  put  their  shoulders  to 
the  wheel.  One  daughter  was  needed  at  home,  to  stay 
with  Mr.  Bronte  and  Miss  Bran  well ;  to  be  the  young  and 


1839    HER  EXPERIENCE  OF  ^GOVERNESS'  LIFE  175 


active  member  in  a  household  of  four,  whereof  three — the 
father,  the  aunt,  and  faithful  Tabby — were  "^past  middle 
age.  And  Emily,  who  suffered  and  drooped  more  than  her 
sisters  when  away  from  Haworth,  was  the  one  appointed  to 
remain.    Anne  was  the  first  to  meet  with  a  situation. 

'April  15,  1839. 

^  I  could  not  write  to  you  in  the  week  you  requested,  as 
about  that  time  we  were  very  busy  in  preparing  for  Anne^s 
departure.^  Poor  child  !  she  left  us  last  Monday  ;  no  one 
went  with  .her ;  it  was  her  own  wish  that  she  might  be  al- 
lowed to  go  alone,  as  she  thought  she  could  manage  better 
and  summon  more  courage  if  thrown  entirely  upon  her  own 
resources.  We  have  had  one  letter  from  her  since  she 
went.  She  expresses  herself  very  well  satisfied,  and  says 
that  Mrs.  Ingham  is  extremely  kind ;  the  two  eldest  chil- 
dren alone  are  under  her  care,  the  rest  are  confined  to  the 
nursery,  with  which  and  its  occupants  she  has  nothing  to 
do.  ...  I  hope  she^ll  do.  You  would  be  astonished  what 
a  sensible,  clever  letter  she  writes ;  it  is  only  the  talking 
part  that  I  fear.  But  I  do  seriously  apprehend  that  Mrs. 
Ingham  will  sometimes  conclude  that  she  has  a  natural 
impediment  in  her  speech.    For  my  own  part,  I  am  as  yet 

wanting  a  situation,"  like  a  housemaid  out  of  place.  By 
the  way,  I  have  lately  discovered  I  have  quite  a  talent  for 
cleaning,  sweeping  up  hearths,  dusting  rooms,  making  beds, 
&c. ;  so,  if  everything  else  fails,  I  can  turn  my  hand  to  that, 
if  anybody  will  give  me  good  wages  for  little  labour.  I 
won^t  be  a  cook ;  I  hate  cooking.  I  won^t  be  a  nursery- 
maid, nor  a  lady^s  maid,  far  less  a  lady^s  companion,  or  a 
mantua-maker,  or  a  straw-bonnet  maker,  or  a  taker-in  of 
plain  work.  I  won^t  be  anything  but  a  housemaid.  .  .  . 
With  regard  to  my  visit  to  Gomersal,  I  have  as  yet  received 
no  invitation ;  but  if  I  should  be  asked,  though  I  should 

*  Anne  went  to  Mrs.  Ingham  at  Blake  Hall,  Mirfield,  some  three 
miles  from  Heckmondwike,  Yorks.  A  branch  of  the  family  still  oc- 
cupies the  place,  a  pleasant  mansion  situated  in  a  park. 


176 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


feel  it  a  great  act  of  self-denial  to  refuse,  yet  I  have  almost 
made  up  my  mind  to  do  so,  though  the  society  of  the  Tay- 
lors is  one  of  the  most  rousing  pleasures  I  have  ever  known. 
Good-bye,  my  darling  Ellen,  &c. 

^P.S. — Strike  out  that  word  ^^darling;"  it  is  humbug. 
Whereas  the  use  of  protestations  ?  We've  known  each  other, 
and  liked  each  other,  a  good  while;  that^s  enough/ 

Not  many  weeks  after  this  was  written  Charlotte  also 
became  engaged  as  a  governess.  I  intend  carefully  to  ab- 
stain from  introducing  the  names  of  any  living  people,  re- 
specting whom  I  may  have  to  tell  unpleasant  truths,  or  to 
quote  severe  remarks  from  Miss  Bronte's  letters ;  but  it  is 
necessary  that  the  difficulties  she  had  to  encounter  in  her 
various  phases  of  life  should  be  fairly  and  frankly  made 
known,  before  the  force  ^  of  what  was  resisted  ^  can  be  at 
all  understood.  I  was  once  speaking  to  her  about  ^Agnes 
Grey  ^ — the  novel  in  which  her  sister  Anne  pretty  literally 
describes  her  own  experience  as  a  governess,  and  alluding 
more  particularly  to  the  account  of  the  stoning  of  the  lit- 
tle nestlings  in  the  presence  of  the  parent  birds.  She  said 
that  none  but  those  who  had  been  in  the  position  of  a  gov- 
erness could  ever  realise  the  dark  side  of  ^respectable'  hu- 
man nature ;  under  no  great  temptation  to  crime,  but  daily 
giving  way  to  selfishness  and  ill-temper,  till  its  conduct  tow- 
ards those  dependent  on  it  sometimes  amounts  to  a  tyr- 
anny of  which  one  would  rather  be  the  victim  than  the  in- 
flictor.  We  can  only  trust  in  such  cases  that  the  employers 
err  rather  from  a  density  of  perception,  and  an  absence 
of  sympathy,  than  from  any  natural  cruelty  of  disposition. 
Among  several  things  of  the  same  kind,  which  I  well  re- 
member, she  told  me  what  had  once  occurred  to  herself. 
She  had  been  entrusted  with  the  care  of  a  little  boy,  three 
or  four  years  old,  during  the  absence  of  his  parents  on  a 
day's  excursion,  and  particularly  enjoined  to  keep  him  out 
of  the  stable  yard.    His  elder  brother,  a  lad  of  eight  or 


1839    HER  EXPERIENCE  OF  ^GOVERNESS'  LIFE  177 


nine^  and  not  a  pupil  of  Miss  Bronte,  tempted  the  little 
fellow  into  the  forbidden  place.  She  followed,  and  tried 
to  induce  him  to  come  away ;  but,  instigated  by  his  brother, 
he  began  throwing  stones  at  her,  and  one  of  them  hit  her  so 
severe  a  blow  on  the  temple  that  the  lads  were  alarmed  into 
obedience.  The  next  day,  in  full  family  conclave,  the 
mother  asked  Miss  Bronte  what  occasioned  the  mark  on  her 
forehead.  She  simply  replied,  ^An  accident,  ma^am,"  and 
no  further  inquiry  was  made  ;  but  the  children  (both  broth- 
ers and  sisters)  had  been  present,  and  honoured  her  for  not 
^telling  tales. ^  From  that  time  she  began  to  obtain  influ- 
ence over  all,  more  or  less,  according  to  their  different 
characters;  and,  as  she  insensibly  gained  their  affection,  her 
own  interest  in  them  was  increasing.  But  one  day,  at  the 
children^'s  dinner,  the  small  truant  of  the  stable  yard,  in  a 
little  demonstrative  gush,  said,  putting  his  hand  in  hers, 
'  I  love  ^ou.  Miss  Bronte whereupon  the  mother  exclaimed, 
before  all  the  children,  ^  Love  the  governess,  my  dear  !' 

The  family  into  which  she  first  entered  was,  I  believe, 
that  of  a  wealthy  Yorkshire  manufacturer.^  The  following 
extracts  from  her  correspondence  at  this  time  will  show 
how  painfully  the  restraint  of  her  new  mode  of  life  pressed 
upon  her.  The  first  is  from  a  letter  to  Emily,  beginning 
with  one  of  the  tender  expressions  in  which,  in  spite  of 

'  Mr.  John  Sidgwick.  Mr.  A.  C.  Benson  says  {The  Life  of  Edward 
White  Benson,  sometime  Archbishop  of  Canterbury): — '  Charlotte  Bronte 
acted  as  governess  to  my  cousins  at  Stonegappe  for  a  few  months  in 
1839.  Few  traditions  of  her  connection  with  the  Sidgwicks  survive. 
She  was,  according  to  her  own  account,  very  unldndly  treated,  but  it 
is  clear  that  she  had  no  gifts  for  the  management  of  children,  and  was 
also  in  a  very  morbid  condition  the  whole  time.  My  cousin  Benson 
Sidgwick,  now  vicar  of  Ashby  Parva,  certainly  on  one  occasion  threw 
a  Bible  at  Miss  Bronte  !  and  all  that  another  cousin  can  recollect  of  her 
is  that  if  she  was  invited  to  walk  to  church  with  them,  she  thought 
she  was  being  ordered  about  like  a  slave  ;  if  she  was  not  invited,  she 
imagined  she  was  excluded  from  the  family  circle.  Both  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
John  Sidgwick  were  extraordinarily  benevolent  people,  much  beloved, 
and  would  not  wittingly  have  given  pain  to  any  one  connected  with 
them.' 
12 


178  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


^humbug/  she  indulged  herself.  ^Mine  dear  love/  '  Mine 
bonnie  love  ^  are  her  terms  of  address  to  this  beloved  sister. 

*  June  8,  1839. 

^  I  have  striven  hard  to  be  pleased  with  my  new  situation. 
The  country,  the  house,  and  the  grounds  are,  as  I  have  said, 
divine  ;  but,  alack-a-day  !  there  is  such  a  thing  as  seeing  all 
beautiful  around  you — pleasant  woods,  white  paths,  green 
lawns,  and  blue  sunshiny  sky — and  not  having  a  free  mo- 
ment or  a  free  thought  left  to  enjoy  them.  The  children 
are  constantly  with  me.  As  for  correcting  them,  I  quickly 
found  that  was  out  of  the  question ;  they  are  to  do  as  they 
like.  A  complaint  to  the  mother  only  brings  black  looks 
on  myself,  and  unjust  partial  excuses  to  screen  the  children. 
I  have  tried  that  plan  once,  and  succeeded  so  notably  I  shall 
try  no  more.  I  said  in  my  last  letter  that  Mrs.  (Sidgwick) 
did  not  know  me.  I  now  begin  to  find  she  does  not  intend 
to  know  me ;  that  she  cares  nothing  about  me,  except  to 
contrive  how  the  greatest  possible  quantity  of  labour  may 
be  got  out  of  me  ;  and  to  that  end  she  overwhelms  me  with 
oceans  of  needle-work;  yards  of  cambric  to  hem,  muslin 
nightcaps  to  make,  and,  above  all  things,  dolls  to  dress.  I 
do  not  think  she  likes  me  at  all,  because  I  can^t  help  being 
shy  in  such  an  entirely  novel  scene,  surrounded  as  I  have 
hithertobeenby  strange  and  constantly  changing  faces.  .  .  . 
I  used  to  think  I  should  like  to  be  in  the  stir  of  grand  folks' 
society ;  but  I  have  had  enough  of  it — it  is  dreary  work  to 
look  on  and  listen.  I  see  more  clearly  than  I  have  ever 
done  before  that  a  private  governess  has  no  existence,  is  not 
considered  as  a  living  rational  being,  except  as  connected 
with  the  wearisome  duties  she  has  to  fulfil.  .  .  .  One  of 
the  pleasantest  afternoons  I  have  spent  here— indeed,  the 
only  one  at  all  pleasant — was  when  Mr.  (Sidgwick)  walked 
out  with  his  children,  and  I  had  orders  to  follow  a  little  be- 
hind. As  he  strolled  on  through  his  fields,  with  his  mag- 
nificent Newfoundland  dog  at  his  side,  he  looked  very  like 
what  a  frank,  wealthy  Conservative  gentleman  ought  to  be. 


1839       HER  EXPERIENCE  AS  A  GOVERNESS  179 


He  spoke  freely  and  unaffectedly  to  the  people  he  met,  and, 
though  he  indulged  his  children  and  allowed  them  to  tease 
himself  far  too  much,  he  would  not  suffer  them  grossly  to 
insult  others/ 

(written  m  PEITCIL  TO  A  FRIEIS'D/) 

*July  1839. 

^  I  cannot  procure  ink  without  going  into  the  drawing- 
room,  where  I  do  not  wish  to  go.  ...  I  should  have  writ- 
ten to  you  long  since,  and  told  you  every  detail  of  the  utter- 
ly new  scene  into  which  I  have  lately  been  cast,  had  I  not 
been  daily  expecting  a  letter  from  yourself,  and  wondering 
and  lamenting  that  you  did  not  write ;  for  you  will  remem- 
ber it  was  your  turn.  I  must  not  bother  you  too  much  with 
my  sorrows,  of  which,  I  fear,  you  heard  an  exaggerated  ac- 
count. If  you  were  near  me,  perhaps  I  might  be  tempted 
to  tell  you  all,  to  grow  egotistical,  and  pour  out  the  long 
history  of  a  private  governesses  trials  and  crosses  in  her 
first  situation.  As  it  is  I  will  only  ask  you  to  imagine  the 
miseries  of  a  reserved  wretch  like  me,  thrown  at  once  into 
the  midst  of  a  large  family,  at  a  time  when  they  were  par- 
ticularly gay — when  the  house  was  filled  with  company — 
all  strangers — people  whose  faces  I  had  never  seen  before. 
In  this  state  I  had  charge  given  me  of  a  set  of  pampered, 
spoilt,  turbulent  children,  whom  I  was  expected  constantly 
to  amuse  as  well  as  to  instruct.  I  soon  found  that  the 
constant  demand  on  my  stock  of  animal  spirits  reduced 
them  to  the  lowest  state  of  exhaustion  ;  at  times  I  felt — 
and,  I  suppose,  seemed — depressed.  To  my  astonishment 
I  was  taken  to  task  on  the  subject  by  Mrs.  (Sidgwick)  with 
a  sternness  of  manner  and  a  harshness  of  language  scarcely 
credible ;  like  a  fool,  I  cried  most  bitterly.  I  could  not 
help  it ;  my  spirits  quite  failed  me  at  first.  I  thought  I 
had  done  my  best  —  strained  every  nerve  to  please  her ; 
and  to  be  treated  in  that  way,  merely  because  I  was  shy 


'  Ellen  Nussey. 


180 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


and  sometimes  melancholy,  was  too  bad.  At  first  I  was 
for  giving  all  np  and  going  home.  Bnt,  after  a  little  re- 
flection, I  determined  to  summon  what  energy  I  had  and 
to  weather  the  storm.  I  said  to  myself,  I  have  never  yet 
quitted  a  place  without  gaining  a  friend;  adversity  is  a 
good  school ;  the  poor  are  born  to  labour,  and  the  depend- 
ent to  endure."  I  resolved  to  be  patient,  to  command  my 
feelings,  and  to  take  what  came;  the  ordeal,  I  reflected, 
would  not  last  many  weeks,  and  I  trusted  it  would  do  me 
good.  I  recollected  the  fable  of  the  willow  and  the  oak ; 
I  bent  quietly,  and  now,  I  trust,  the  storm  is  blowing  over 
me.  Mrs.  (Sidgwick)  is  generally  considered  an  agreeable 
woman ;  so  she  is,  I  doubt  not,  in  general  society.  She 
behaves  somewhat  more  civilly  to  me  now  than  she  did  at 
first,  and  the  children  are  a  little  more  manageable  ;  but 
she  does  not  know  my  character,  and  she  does  not  wish  to 
know  it.  I  have  never  had  five  minutes'  conversation  with 
her  since  I  came,  except  while  she  was  scolding  me.  I 
have  no  wish  to  be  pitied,  except  by  yourself ;  if  I  were 
talking  to  you  I  could  tell  you  much  more.^ 

(to  EMILY,  ABOUT  THIS  TIME.) 

^  Mine  bonnie  love,  I  was  as  glad  of  your  letter  as  tongue 
can  express  :  it  is  a  real,  genuine  pleasure  to  hear  from 
home  ;  a  thing  to  be  saved  till  bedtime,  when  one  has  a 
moment's  quiet  and  rest  to  enjoy  it  thoroughly.  Write 
whenever  you  can.  I  could  like  to  be  at  home.  I  could 
like  to  work  in  a  mill.  I  could  like  to  feel  some  mental 
liberty.  I  could  like  this  weight  of  restraint  to  be  taken 
off.    But  the  holidays  will  come.  Ooraggio.' 

Her  temporary  engagement  in  this  uncongenial  family 
ended  in  the  July  of  this  year;  not  before  the  constant 
strain  upon  her  spirits  and  strength  had  again  affected  her 
health;  but  when  this  delicacy  became  apparent  in  palpita- 
tions and  shortness  of  breathing  it  was  treated  as  affecta- 
tion—  as  a  phase  of  imaginary  indisposition,  which  could 


1 


1839 


A  PROJECTED  EXCURSION 


181 


be  dissipated  by  a  good  scolding.  She  had  been  brouglit 
up  rather  in  a  school  of  Spartan  endurance  than  in  one  of 
maudlin  self-indulgence,  and  could  bear  many  a  pain  and 
relinquish  many  a  hope  in  silence. 

After  she  had  been  at  home  about  a  week,  her  friend 
proposed  that  she  should  accompany  her  in  some  little  ex- 
cursion, having  pleasure  alone  for  its  object.  She  caught 
at  the  idea  most  eagerly  at  first ;  but  her  hope  stood  still, 
waned,  and  had  almost  disappeared  before,  after  many 
delays,  it  was  realised.  In  its  fulfilment  at  last  it  was  a 
favourable 'specimen  of  many  a  similar  air-bubble  dancing 
before  her  eyes  in  her  brief  career,  in  which  stern  realities, 
rather  than  pleasures,  formed  the  leading  incidents. 

*  July  26,  1839. 

^  Your  proposal  has  almost  driven  me  clean  daft.""  If 
you  don^t  understand  that  ladylike  expression  you  must 
ask  me  what  it  means  when  I  see  you.  The  fact  is,  an 
excursion  with  you  anywhere,  whether  to  Cleathorpe  or 
Canada,  just  by  ourselves,  would  be  to  me  most  delightful. 
I  should  indeed  like  to  go  ;  but  I  can't  get  leave  of  absence 
for  longer  than  a  week,  and  Fm  afraid  that  would  not  suit 
you.  Must  I,  then,  give  it  up  entirely  ?  I  feel  as  if  I 
could  not,  I  never  had  such  a  chance  of  enjoyment  before  ; 
I  do  want  to  see  you  and  talk  to  you,  and  be  with  you. 
When  do  you  wish  to  go  ?  Could  I  meet  you  at  Leeds  ? 
To  take  a  gig  from  Haworth  to  B(irstall)  would  be  to  me 
a  very  serious  increase  of  expense,  and  I  happen  to  be  very 
low  in  cash.  Oh  !  rich  people  seem  to  have  many  pleasures 
at  their  command  which  we  are  debarred  from  !  However, 
no  repining. 

'  Say  when  you  go,  and  I  shall  be  able  in  my  answer  to 
say  decidedly  whether  I  can  accompany  you  or  not.  I  must 
— I  will — Fm  set  upon  it — I'll  be  obstinate  and  bear  down 
all  opposition. 

^  P.  S. — Since  writing  the  above  I  find  that  aunt  and  papa 
have  determined  to  go  to  Liverpool  for  a  fortnight,  and  take 


182  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


us  all  with  them.  It  is  stipulated,  however,  that  I  should 
give  up  the  Cleathorpe  scheme.    I  yield  reluctantly.^^ 

1  fancy  that,  about  this  time,  Mr.  Bronte  found  it  neces- 
sary, either  from  failing  health  or  the  increased  populous- 
ness  of  the  parish,  to  engage  the  assistance  of  a  curate.^ 
At  least  it  is  in  a  letter  written  this  summer  that  I  find 
mention  of  the  first  of  a  succession  of  curates,  who  hence- 
forward revolved  round  Haworth  Parsonage,  and  made  an 
impression  on  the  mind  of  one  of  its  inmates  which  she  has 
conveyed  pretty  distinctly  to  the  world.  The  Haworth 
curate  brought  his  clerical  friends  and  neighbours  about 
the  place,  and  for  a  time  the  incursions  of  these,  near  the 
parsonage  tea-time,  formed  occurrences  by  which  the  quiet- 
ness of  the  life  thore  was  varied,  sometimes  pleasantly, 
sometimes  disagreeably.  The  little  adventure  recorded  at 
the  end  of  the  letter  on  page  183  is  uncommon  in  the  lot 
of  most  women,  and  is  a  testimony  in  this  case  to  the  un- 
usual power  of  attraction — though  so  plain  in  feature — 
which  Charlotte  possessed,  when  she  let  herself  go  in  the 
happiness  and  freedom  of  home. 

^  '  But ' — the  letter  continues—'  aunt  suggests  that  you  may  be  able 
to  join  us  at  Liverpool.  What  do  you  say?  We  shall  not  go  for  a 
fortnight  or  three  weeks,  because  till  that  time  papa's  expected  assist, 
ant  will  not  be  ready  to  undertake  his  duties/  The  *  expected  assist- 
ant '  was  Mr;  William  Weightman. 

2  Mr.  Bronte's  curates  were  five  in  number — 

1.  Mr.  William  Hodgson,  1837-8. 

2.  Mr.  William  Weightman,  1839-42. 

3.  Mr.  Peter  Augustus  Smith,  1842-4. 

4.  Mr.  Arthur  Bell  Nicholls,  1844-53. 

5.  Mr.  De  Renzi,  1853-4. 

6.  Mr.  Arthur  Bell  Nicholls,  1854-61. 

Mr.  Hodgson's  position  must  have  been  somewhat  different  from 
that  of  his  successors,  as  Mr.  Bronte,  in  a  funeral  sermon  on  Mr. 
Weightman,  which  he  preached  in  Haworth  Parish  Church  on  Octo- 
ber 2,  1842,  referred  to  permanent  assistance  having  first  been  given 
to  bim  by  bis  Bishop  in  the  person  of  Mr.  Weightman.  Mr.  Hodg- 
son probably  volunteered  for  a  few  months  before  obtaining  a  more 
important  charge. 


1839  SECOND  OFFER  OF  MARRIAGE  183 


'  August  4,  1839. 

^  The  Liverpool  journey  is  yet  a  matter  of  talk,  a  sort  of 
castle  in  the  air;  bnt,  between  you  and  me,  I  fancy  it  is 
very  doubtful  whether  it  will  ever  assume  a  more  solid 
shape.  Aunt — like  many  other  elderly  people — likes  to 
talk  of  such  things ;  but  when  it  comes  to  putting  them 
into  actual  execution  she  rather  falls  off.  Such  being  the 
case,  I  think  you  and  I  had  better  adhere  to  our  first  plan 
of  going  somewhere  together  independently  of  other  peo- 
ple. I  have  got  leave  to  accompany  you  for  a  week — at 
the  utmost  a  fortnight — but  no  more.  Where  do  you 
wish  to  go  ?  Burlington,  I  should  think,  from  what  Mary 
says,  would  be  as  eligible  a  place  as  any.  When  do  you 
set  off  ?  Arrange  all  these  things  according  to  your  con- 
venience ;  I  shall  start  no  objections.  The  idea  of  seeing 
the  sea — of  being  near  it — watching  its  changes  by  sunrise, 
sunset,  moonlight,  and  noonday — in  calm,  perhaps  in  storm 
— fills  and  satisfies  my  mind.  I  shall  be  discontented  at 
nothing.  And  then  I  am  not  to  be  with  a  set  of  people 
with  whom  I  have  nothing  in  common — who  would  be 
nuisances  and  bores  ;  but  with  you,  whom  I  like  and  know, 
and  who  knows  me. 

have  an  odd  circumstance  to  relate  to  you:  prepare 

for  a  hearty  laugh  !    The  other  day  Mr.  ,i  a  vicar,  came 

to  spend  the  day  with  us,  bringing  with  him  his  own  cu- 
rate. The  latter  gentleman,  by  name  Mr.  B.,  is  a  young 
Irish  clergyman,  fresh  from  Dublin  University.  It  was  the 
first  time  we  had  any  of  us  seen  him,  but,  however,  after 
the  manner  of  his  countrymen,  he  soon  made  himself  at 

^  •  Mr.  *  was  Mr.  Hodgson,  who  had  been  Mr.  Bronte's  first  cu- 
rate in  1837-8,  and  was  at  this  time  incumbent  of  Christchurch,  Colne, 
Lancashire,  a  position  he  held  until  his  death  in  1874.   Mr.  Hodgson's 

first  curate  at  Colne  was  Mr.  David  Bryce— the  '  Mr.  B  '  of  this 

letter— who  died  at  Colne,  January  17.  1840,  aged  29.  Mr.  Hodgson 
was  in  the  habit  of  telling  his  family  that  it  was  his  impression  that 
matters  between  Mr.  Bryce  and  Miss  Bronte  had  gone  beyond  the 
casual  stage  here  described,  but  this  is  scarcely  probable  by  the  light 
of  Charlotte  Bronte's  explicit  statement. 


184  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


home.  His  character  quickly  appeared  in  his  conversa- 
tion ;  witty,  lively,  ardent,  clever  too  ;  but  deficient  in  the 
dignity  and  discretion  of  an  Englishman.  At  home,  you 
know,  I  talk  with  ease,  and  am  never  shy — never  weighed 
down  and  oppressed  by  that  miserable  mauvaise  honte  which 
torments  and  constrains  me  elsewhere.  So  I  conversed 
with  the  Irishman,  and  laughed  at  his  jests  ;  and,  though 
I  saw  faults  in  his  character,  excused  them  because  of  the 
amusement  his  originality  afforded.  I  cooled  a  little,  in- 
deed, and  drew  in  towards  the  latter  part  of  the  evening, 
because  he  began  to  season  his  conversation  with  something 
of  Hibernian  flattery,  which  I  did  not  quite  relish.  How- 
ever they  went  away,  and  no  more  was  thought  about  them. 
A  few  days  after  I  got  a  letter,  the  direction  of  which  puz- 
zled me,  it  being  in  a  hand  I  was  not  accustomed  to  see. 
Evidently  it  was  neither  from  you  nor  Mary,  my  only  cor- 
respondents. Having  opened  and  read  it,  it  proved  to  be 
a  declaration  of  attachment  and  proposal  of  matrimony, 
expressed  in  the  ardent  language  of  the  sapient  young 
Irishman  I  I  hope  you  are  laughing  heartily.  This  is  not 
like  one  of  my  adventures,  is  it  ?  It  more  nearly  resem- 
bles Martha^s.  I  am  certainly  doomed  to  be  an  old  maid. 
Never  mind.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  that  fate  ever  since 
I  was  twelve  years  old. 

^  Well !  thought  I,  I  have  heard  of  love  at  first  sight, 
but  this  beats  all  !  I  leave  you  to  guess  what  my  answer 
would  be,  convinced  that  you  will  not  do  me  the  injustice 
of  guessing  wrong.' 

On  August  14  she  still  writes  from  Haworth  : — 
^I  have  in  vain  packed  my  box,  and  prepared  everything 
for  our  anticipated  journey.  It  so  happens  that  I  can  get 
no  conveyance  this  week  or  the  next.  The  only  gig  let 
out  on  hire  in  Haworth  is  at  Harrogate,  and  likely  to  re- 
main there  for  aught  I  can  hear.  Papa  decidedly  objects 
to  my  going  by  the  coach,  and  walking  to  B(irstall), 
though  I  am  sure  I  could  manage  it.    Aunt  exclaims 


1839 


PLEASURE  EXCURSION 


185 


against  the  weather,  and  the  roads,  and  the  four  winds 
of  heaven  ;  so  I  am  in  a  fix,  and,  what  is  worse,  so  are 
you.  On  reading  over,  for  the  second  or  third  time,  your 
last  letter  (which,  by-the-bye,  was  written  in  such  hiero- 
glyphics that,  at  the  first  hasty  perusal,  I  could  hardly 
make  out  two  consecutive  words),  I  find  you  intimate  that 
if  I  leave  this  journey  till  Thursday  I  shall  be  too  late.  I 
grieve  that  I  should  have  so  inconvenienced  you  ;  but  I 
need  not  talk  of  either  Friday  or  Saturday  now,  for  I 
rather  imagine  there  is  small  chance  of  my  ever  going  at 
all.  The  elders  of  the  house  have  never  cordially  acqui- 
esced in  the  measure  ;  and  now  that  impediments  seem 
to  start  up  at  every  step  opposition  grows  more  open. 
Papa,  indeed,  would  willingly  indulge  me,  but  this  very 
kindness  of  his  makes  me  doubt  whether  I  ought  to  draw 
upon  it;  so,  though  I  could  battle  out  aunt^s  discontent,  I 
yield  to  papa's  indulgence.^  He  does  not  say  so,  but  I 
know  he  would  rather  I  stayed  at  home  ;  and  aunt  meant 
well  too,  I  dare  say,  but  I  am  provoked  that  she  reserved 
the  expression  of  her  decided  disapproval  till  all  was  set- 
tled between  you  and  myself.  Reckon  on  me  no  more  ; 
leave  me  out  in  your  calculations  :  perhaps  I  ought,  in  the 
beginning,  to  have  had  prudence  sufficient  to  shut  my  eyes 
against  such  a  prospect  of  pleasure,  so  as  to  deny  myself 
the  hope  of  it.  Be  as  angry  as  you  please  with  me  for  dis- 
appointing you.  I  did  not  intend  it,  and  have  only  one 
thing  more  to  say — if  you  do  not  go  immediately  to  the 
sea,  will  you  come  to  see  us  at  Haworth  ?  This  invitation 
is  not  mine  only,  but  papa's  and  aunVs." 

However,  a  little  more  patience,  a  little  more  delay, 
and  she  enjoyed  the  pleasure  she  had  wished  for  so  much. 
She  and  her  friend  went  to  Easton  for  a  fortnight  in  the 

^  It  is  perhaps  pertinent  to  hazard  the  suggestion  that  this  testi- 
mony by  Charlotte  Bronte  to  her  father's  kindness  is  worth  a  great 
deal  more  than  the  unverifiable  gossip  concerning  Mr.  Bronte's  incon- 
siderate selfishness  that  has  passed  current  for  many  years. 


186  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


latter  part  of  September.  It  was  here  she  received  her  first 
impressions  of  the  sea. 

'October  24.1 

^  Have  yon  forgotten  the  sea  by  this  time,  Ellen  ?  Is  it 
grown  dim  in  your  mind  ?  Or  can  you  still  see  it,  dark, 
blue,  and  green,  and  foam-white,  and  hear  it  roaring  roughly 
when  the  wind  is  high,  or  rushing  softly  when  it  is  calm  ? 
.  .  .  I  am  as  well  as  need  be,  and  very  fat.  I  think  of 
Easton  very  often,  and  of  worthy  Mr.  H.,'  and  his  kind- 
hearted  helpmate,  and  of  our  pleasant  walks  to  Harlequin 
Wood,  and  to  Boynton,  our  merry  evenings,  our  roirips  with 
little  Hanchcon,  &c.  &c.  If  we  both  live,  this  period  of  our 
lives  will  long  be  a  theme  for  pleasant  recollection.  Did 
you  chance,  in  your  letter  to  Mr.  H.,  to  mention  my  spec- 
tacles ?  I  am  sadly  inconvenienced  by  the  want  of  them. 
I  can  neither  read,  write,  nor  draw  with  comfort  in  their 
absence.  I  hope  Madame  won^t  refuse  to  give  them  up.  .  .  . 
Excuse  the  brevity  of  this  letter,  for  I  have  been  drawl- 
ing all  day,  and  my  eyes  are  so  tired  it  is  quite  a  labour  to 
write.' 

But,  as  the  vivid  remembrance  of  this  pleasure  died  away, 

*  This  letter,  dated  Haworth,  October  24,  1839,  commences — 

*  You  will  have  concluded  by  this  time  that  I  never  got  home  at  all, 
but  evaporated  by  the  way;  however,  I  did  get  home,  and  very  well 
too,  by  the  aid  of  the  Dewsbury  coachman,  though  if  I  had  not  con- 
trived to  make  friends  with  him  I  don't  know  how  I  should  have 
managed.  He  showed  me  the  way  to  the  inn  where  the  Keighley 
coach  stopped,  carried  my  box,  took  my  place,  and  saw  my  luggage 
put  in,  and  helped  me  to  mount  on  to  the  top.  I  assure  you  I  feel 
exceedingly  obliged  to  him.  I  had  a  long  letter  from  your  brother 
Henry  giving  an  account  of  his  bride  elect.' 

^  Mr.  Hudson,  of  Easton,  near  Bridlington  or  Burlington,  York- 
shire, is  here  referred  to,  and  we  are  brought  into  relation  with  a  lit- 
tle-known friendship  of  Charlotte  Bronte's.  Mr.  John  Hudson  was 
a  farmer  and  a  friend  of  the  Nussey  family.  Charlotte  Bronte  and 
Ellen  Nussey  lodged  with  him  on  their  excursion  to  the  sea.  '  Little 
Hancheon's '  real  name  was  Fanny  Whipp,  then  about  seven  years  of 
age.    She  married  a  Mr.  North,  and  died  in  1866,  aged  thirty-five. 


1839 


TABBY  DISABLED 


187 


an  accident  occiirred  to  make  the  actual  duties  of  life  press 
somewhat  heavily  for  a  time. 

'  December  21,  1839. 
'  We  are  at  present,  and  have  been  during  the  last  month, 
rather  busy,  as,  for  that  space  of  time,  we  have  been  without 
a  servant,  except  a  little  girl  to  run  errands.  Poor  Tabby 
became  so  lame  that  she  was  at  length  obliged  to  leave  us. 
She  is  residing  with  her  sister,  in  a  little  house  of  her  own, 
which  she  bought  with  her  savings  a  year  or  two  since. 
She  is  very  comfortable,  and  wants  nothing ;  as  she  is  near 
we  see  her  very  often.  In  the  meantime  Emily  and  I  are 
sufficiently  busy,  as  you  may  suppose  :  I  manage  the  iron- 
ing, and  keep  the  rooms  clean;  Emily  does  the  baking, 
and  attends  to  the  kitchen.  We  are  such  odd  animals  that 
we  prefer  this  mode  of  contrivance  to  having  a  new  face 
amongst  us.  Besides,  we  do  not  despair  of  Tabby's  return, 
and  she  shall  not  be  supplanted  by  a  stranger  in  her  ab- 
sence. I  excited  aunt's  wrath  very  much  by  burning  the 
clothes,  the  first  time  I  attempted  to  iron ;  but  I  do  better 
now.  Human  feelings  are  queer  things;  I  am  much  hap- 
pier black-leading  the  stoves,  making  the  beds,  and  sweep- 
ing the  floors  at  home  than  I  should  be  living  like  a  fine 
lady  anywhere  else.  I  must  indeed  drop  my  subscription 
to  the  Jews,  because  I  have  no  money  to  keep  it  up.  I 
ought  to  have  announced  this  intention  to  you  before,  but 
I  quite  forgot  I  was  a  subscriber.  I  intend  to  force  myself 
to  take  another  situation  when  I  can  get  one,  though  I 
hate  and  ahhor  the  very  thoughts  of  governess-ship.  But  I 
must  do  it ;  and  therefore  I  heartily  wish  I  could  hear  of 
a  family  where  they  need  such  a  commodity  as  a  governess.^ 


CHAPTER  IX 


The  year  1840  found  all  the  Brontes  living  at  home,  ex- 
cept Anne.  As  I  have  already  intimated,  for  some  reason 
with  which  I  am  unacquainted,  the  plan  of  sending  Bran- 
well  to  study  at  the  Eoyal  Academy  had  been  relinquished; 
probably  it  was  found,  on  inquiry,  that  the  expenses  of 
such  a  life  were  greater  than  his  father's  slender  finances 
could  afford,  even  with  the  help  which  Charlotte's  labours 
at  Miss  Wooler's  gave,  by  providing  for  Anne's  board  and 
education.  I  gather  from  what  I  have  heard  that  Bran- 
well  must  have  been  severely  disappointed  when  the  plan 
fell  through.  His  talents  were  certainly  very  brilliant,  and 
of  this  he  was  fully  conscious,  and  fervently  desired,  by 
their  use,  either  in  writing  or  drawing,  to  make  himself  a 
name.  At  the  same  time  he  would  probably  have  found 
his  strong  love  of  pleasure  and  irregular  habits  a  great  im- 
pediment in  his  path  to  fame  ;  but  these  blemishes  in  his 
character  were  only  additional  reasons  why  he  yearned 
after  a  London  life,  in  which  he  imagined  he  could  obtain 
every  stimulant  to  his  already  vigorous  intellect,  while  at 
the  same  time  he  would  have  a  license  of  action  to  be 
found  only  in  crowded  cities.  Thus  his  whole  nature  was 
attracted  towards  the  metropolis  ;  and  many  an  hour  must 
he  have  spent  pouring  over  the  map  of  London,  to  judge 
from  an  anecdote  which  has  been  told  me.  Some  traveller 
for  a  London  house  of  business  came  to  Haworth  for  a 
night,  and,  according  to  the  unfortunate  habit  of  the  place, 
the  brilliant  ^Patrick'  was  sent  for  to  the  inn,  to  beguile 
the  evening  by  his  intellectual  conversation  and  his  flashes 
of  wit.    They  began  to  talk  of  London  ;  of  the  habits  and 


1840 


BRAN  WELL  BRONTE 


189 


ways  of  life  there ;  of  the  places  of  amusement ;  and 
Branwell  informed  the  Londoner  of  one  or  two  short 
cuts  from  point  to  point,  up  narrow  lanes  or  back  streets  ; 
and  it  was  only  towards  the  end  of  the  evening  that 
the  traveller  discovered,  from  his  companion's  volun- 
tary confession,  that  he  had  never  set  foot  in  London 
at  all. 

At  this  time  the  young  man  seemed  to  have  his  fate 
in  his  own  hands.  He  was  full  of  noble  impulses,  as  well 
as  of  extraordinary  gifts  ;  not  accustomed  to  resist  temp- 
tation, it  is  true,  from  any  higher  motive  than  strong 
family  affection,  but  showing  so  much  power  of  attach- 
ment to  all  about  him  that  they  took  pleasure  in  believ- 
ing that,  after  a  time,  he  would  ^  right  himself, and 
that  they  should  have  pride  and  delight  in  the  use  he 
would  then  make  of  his  splendid  talents.  His  aunt  es- 
pecially made  him  her  great  favourite.  There  are  al- 
ways peculiar  trials  in  the  life  of  an  only  boy  in  a  family 
of  girls.  He  is  expected  to  act  a  part  in  life;  to  do^  while 
they  are  only  to  be  ;  and  the  necessity  of  their  giving  way 
to  him  in  some  things  is  too  often  exaggerated  into  their 
giving  way  to  him  in  all,  and  thus  rendering  him  utterly 
selfish.  In  the  family  about  whom  I  am  writing,  while 
the  rest  were  almost  ascetic  in  their  habits,  Branwell  was 
allowed  to  grow  up  self-indulgent  ;  but,  in  early  youth,  his 
power  of  attracting  and  attaching  people  was  so  great  that 
few  came  in  contact  with  him  who  were  not  so  much  daz- 
zled by  him  as  to  be  desirous  of  gratifying  whatever  wishes 
he  expressed.  Of  course  he  was  careful  enough  not  to 
reveal  anything  before  his  father  and  sisters  of  the  pleas- 
ures he  indulged  in  ;  but  his  tone  of  thought  and  conver- 
sation became  gradually  coarser,  and,  for  a  time,  his  sisters 
tried  to  persuade  themselves  that  such  coarseness  was  a 
part  of  manliness,  and  to  blind  themselves  by  love  to  the 
fact  that  Branwell  was  worse  than  other  young  men.  At 
present,  though  he  had,  they  were  aware,  fallen  into  some 
errors,  the  exact  nature  of  which  they  avoided  knowing, 


190 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


still  he  was  their  hope  and  their  darling ;  their  pride, 
who  should  some  time  bring  great  glory  to  the  name  of 
Bronte. 

He  and  his  sister  Charlotte  were  both  slight  and  small 
of  stature,  while  the  other  two  were  of  taller  and  larger 
make.  I  have  seen  BranwelFs  profile  ;  it  is  what  would  be 
generally  esteemed  very  handsome ;  the  forehead  is  mas- 
sive, the  eye  well  set,  and  the  expression  of  it  fine  and 
intellectual ;  the  nose  too  is  good ;  but  there  are  coarse 
lines  about  the  mouth,  and  the  lips,  though  of  handsome 
shape,  are  loose  and  thick,  indicating  self-indulgence, 
while  the  slightly  retreating  chin  conveys  an  idea  of  weak- 
ness of  will.  His  hair  and  complexion  were  sandy.  He 
had  enough  Irish  blood  in  him  to  make  his  manners  frank 
and  genial,  with  a  kind  of  natural  gallantry  about  them. 
In  a  fragment  of  one  of  his  manuscripts  which  I  have  read 
there  is  a  justness  and  felicity  of  expression  which  is  very 
striking.  It  is  the  beginning  of  a  tale,  and  the  actors  in  it 
are  drawn  with  much  of  the  grace  of  characteristic  portrait- 
painting,  in  perfectly  pure  and  simple  language  which  dis- 
tinguishes so  many  of  Addison^s  papers  in  the  ^  Spectator.' 
The  fragment  is  too  short  to  afford  the  means  of  judging 
whether  he  had  much  dramatic  talent,  as  the  persons  of 
the  story  are  not  thrown  into  conversation.  But  altogether 
the  elegance  and  composure  of  style  are  such  an  one  would 
Xiot  have  expected  from  this  vehement  and  ill-fated  young 
man.  He  had  a  stronger  desire  for  literary  fame  burning 
in  his  heart  than  even  that  which  occasionally  flashed  up 
in  his  sisters^  He  tried  various  outlets  for  his  talents.  He 
wrote  and  sent  poems  to  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge,  who 
both  expressed  kind  and  laudatory  opinions,  and  he  fre- 
quently contributed  verses  to  the  ^  Leeds  Mercury.'  In 
1840  he  was  living  at  home,  employing  himself  in  occasional 
composition  of  various  kinds,  and  waiting  till  some  occu- 
pation, for  which  he  might  be  fitted  without  any  expensive 
course  of  preliminary  training,  should  turn  up  ;  waiting, 
not  impatiently ;  for  he  saw  society  of  one  kind  (probably 


1840 


HOUSEHOLD  REGULARITY 


191 


what  he  called  ^  life ')  at  the  ^  Black  Bull and  at  home  he 
was  as  yet  the  cherished  favourite. 

Miss  Branwell  was  unaware  of  the  fermentation  of  un- 
occupied talent  going  on  around  her.  She  was  not  her 
nieces"  confidante — perhaps  no  one  so  much  older  could 
have  been — but  their  father,  from  whom  they  derived  not 
a  little  of  their  adventurous  spirit,  was  silently  cognisant 
of  much  of  which  she  took  no  note.  Next  to  her  nephew 
the  docile,  pensive  Anne  was  her  favourite.  Of  her  she 
had  taken  charge  from  her  infancy ;  she  was  always  patient 
and  tractable,  and  would  submit  quietly  to  occasional  op- 
pression, even  when  she  felt  it  keenly.  Not  so  her  two 
elder  sisters  ;  they  made  their  opinions  known,  when  roused 
by  any  injustice.  At  such  times  Emily  would  express  her- 
self as  strongly  as  Charlotte,  although  perhaps  less  fre- 
quently. But,  in  general,  notwithstanding  that  Miss  Bran- 
well  might  be  occasionally  unreasonable,  she  and  her  nieces 
went  on  smoothly  enough  ;  and  though  they  might  now 
and  than  be  annoyed  by  petty  tyranny,  she  still  inspired 
them  with  sincere  respect,  and  not  a  little  affection.  They 
were,  moreover,  grateful  to  her  for  many  habits  she  had 
enforced  upon  them,  and  which  in  time  had  become  a  sec- 
ond nature  :  order,  method,  neatness  in  everything  ;  a  per- 
fect knowledge  of  all  kinds  of  household  work ;  an  exact 
punctuality,  and  obedience  to  the  laws  of  time  and  place, 
of  which  no  one  but  themselves,  I  have  heard  Charlotte 
say,  could  tell  the  value  in  after  life.  With  their  impul- 
sive natures  it  was  positive  repose  to  have  learnt  implicit 
obedience  to  external  laws.  People  in  Haworth  have  as- 
sured me  that,  according  to  the  hour  of  day  —  nay,  the 
very  minute — could  they  have  told  what  the  inhabitants 
of  the  parsonage  were  about.  At  certain  times  the  girls 
would  be  sewing  in  their  aunt's  bedroom  —  the  chamber 
which,  in  former  days,  before  they  had  outstripped  her 
in  their  learning,  had  served  them  as  a  schoolroom  ;  at 
certain  (early)  hours  they  had  their  meals  ;  from  six  to 
eight  Miss  Branwell  read  aloud  to  Mr.  Bronte ;  at  punctual 


192 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


eight  the  household  assembled  to  evening  prayers  in  his 
study ;  and  by  nine  he,  the  aunt,  and  Tabby  were  all  in 
bed— the  girls  free  to  pace  up  and  down  (like  restless  wild 
animals)  in  the  parlour,  talking  over  plans  and  projects, 
and  thoughts  of  what  was  to  be  their  future  life. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  write  the  favourite  idea  was  that 
of  keeping  a  school.  They  thought  that,  by  a  little  con- 
trivance, and  a  very  little  additional  building,  a  small  num- 
ber of  pupils,  four  or  six,  might  be  accommodated  in  the 
parsonage.  As  teaching  seemed  the  only  profession  open 
to  them,  and  as  it  appeared  that  Emily  at  least  could  not 
live  away  from  home,  while  the  others  also  suffered  much 
from  the  same  cause,  this  plan  of  school-keeping  presented 
itself  as  most  desirable.  But  it  involved  some  outlay ; 
and  to  this  their  aunt  was  averse.  Yet  there  was  no  one 
to  whom  they  could  apply  for  a  loan  of  the  requisite  means 
except  Miss  Branwell,  who  had  made  a  small  store  out  of 
her  savings,  which  she  intended  for  her  nephew  and  nieces 
eventually,  but  which  she  did  not  like  to  risk.  Still  this 
plan  of  school-keeping  remained  uppermost ;  and  in  the 
evenings  of  this  winter  of  1839-40  the  alterations  that 
would  be  necessary  in  the  house,  and  the  best  way  of  con- 
vincing their  aunt  of  the  wisdom  of  their  project,  formed 
the  principal  subject  of  their  conversation. 

This  anxiety  weighed  upon  their  minds  rather  heavily 
during  the  months  of  dark  and  dreary  weather.  Kor  were 
external  events,  among  the  circle  of  their  friends,  of  a  cheer- 
ful character.  In  January  1840  Charlotte  heard  of  the 
death  of  a  young  girl  who  had  been  a  pupil  of  hers,  and  a 
schoolfellow  of  Anne^s,  at  the  time  when  the  sisters  were 
together  at  Roe  Head ;  and  had  attached  herself  very 
strongly  to  the  latter,  who,  in  return,  bestowed  upon  her 
much  quiet  affection.  It  was  a  sad  day  when  the  intelli- 
gence of  this  young  creature^s  death  arrived.  Charlotte 
wrote  thus  on  January  12,  1840 : — 

^  Your  letter,  which  I  received  this  morning,  was  one  of 


DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  FRIEND  193 


painful  interest.  Anne  C./  it  seems,  is  dead;  when  I  saw 
her  last  she  was  a  young,  beautiful,  and  happy  girl ;  and 
now  ''lifers  fitful  fever'"  is  over  with  her,  and  she  ''sleeps 
well/"  I  shall  never  see  her  again.  It  is  a  sorrowful 
thought;  for  she  was  a  warm-hearted,  affectionate  being, 
and  I  cared  for  her.  Wherever  I  seek  for  her  now  in  this 
world  she  cannot  be  found,  no  more  than  a  flower  or  a  leaf 
which  withered  twenty  years  ago.  A  bereavement  of  this 
kind  gives  one  a  glimpse  of  the  feeling  those  must  have 
who  have  seen  all  drop  round  them,  friend  after  friend,  and 
are  left  to  end  their  pilgrimage  alone.  But  tears  are  fruit- 
less, and  I  try  not  to  repine."* 

^  Anne  Carter,  who  had  also  a  brief  experience  as  a  governess. 
2  On  January  24,  1840,  she  wrote  to  Miss  Niissey  : — 
'My  dear  Ellen, — I  have  given  Mrs.  E.  H.  her  coup  de  grace — that 
is  to  say,  I  have  relinquished  the  idea  of  becoming  an  inmate  of  her 
family.  I  have  no  doubt  she  will  be  very  cross  with  me,  especially  as 
when  I  first  declined  going  she  pressed  me  to  take  a  trial  of  a  month. 
I  am  now,  therefore,  again  adrif  o  without  an  object.  I  am  sorry  for 
this,  but  something  may  turn  up  ere  long.  I  know  not  whether  to 
encourage  you  in  your  plan  of  going  out  or  not.  Your  health  seems 
to  me  the  greatest  obstacle ;  if  you  could  obtain  a  situation  like  M. 
B.,  you  might  do  very  well.  But  you  could  never  live  in  an  unruly, 
violent  family  of  modern  children,  such,  for  instance,  as  those  at 
Blake  Hall.  Anne  is  not  to  return.  Mrs.  Ingham  is  a  placid,  mild 
woman  ;  but  as  for  the  children,  it  was  one  struggle  of  life- wearing 
exertion  to  keep  them  in  anything  like  decent  order.  1  am  miserable 
when  I  allow  myself  to  dwell  on  the  necessity  of  spending  my  life  as 
a  governess.  The  chief  requisite  for  that  station  seems  to  me  to  be 
the  power  of  taking  things  easily  as  they  come,  and  of  making  one- 
self comfortable  and  at  home  w^herever  we  may  chance  to  be— quali- 
ties in  which  all  our  family  are  singularly  deficient.  I  know  I  can- 
not live  with  a  person  like  Mrs.  Sidgwick,  but  I  hope  all  women  are 
not  like  her,  and  my  motto  is  **  Try  again."  Mary  Taylor,  I  am  sorry 
to  hear,  is  ill.  Have  you  seen  her  or  heard  anything  of  her  lately? 
Sickness  seems  very  general,  and  death  too,  at  least  in  this  neighbour- 
hood. Mr.  Bryce  is  dead.  He  had  fallen  into  a  state  of  delicate 
health  for  some  time,  and  the  rupture  of  a  blood-vessel  carried  him 
off.  He  was  a  strong,  athletic-looking  man  when  I  saw  him,  and  that 
is  scarcely  six  months  ago.  Though  I  knew  so  little  of  him,  and  of 
course  could  not  be  deeply  or  permanently  interested  in  what  con- 
13 


194 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


During  this  winter  Charlotte  employed  her  leisure  hours 
in  writing  a  story.  Some  fragments  of  the  manuscript  yet 
remain,  but  it  is  in  too  small  a  hand  to  be  read  without 
great  fatigue  to  the  eyes;  and  one  cares  the  less  to  read  it 
as  she  herself  condemned  it,  in  the  preface  to  ^  The  Pro- 
fessor/ by  saying  that  in  this  story  she  had  got  over  such 
taste  as  she  might  once  have  had  for  the  ^  ornamental  and 
redundant  in  composition/^  The  beginning,  too,  as  she 
acknowledges,  was  on  a  scale  commensurate  with  one  of 
Richardson^s  novels,  of  seven  or  eight  volumes.  I  gather 
some  of  these  particulars  from  a  copy  of  a  letter  apparently 
in  reply  to  one  from  Wordsworth,  to  whom  she  had  sent  the 
commencement  of  the  story,  some  time  in  the  summer  of 
.1840. 

^Authors  are  generally  very  tenacious  of  their  produc- 
tions, but  I  am  not  so  much  attached  to  this  but  that  I  can 
give  it  up  without  much  distress.  No  doubt,  if  I  had  gone 
on,  I  should  have  made  quite  a  Richardsonian  concern  of  it. 
.  .  .  I  had  materials  in  my  head  for  half  a  dozen  volumes. 
...  Of  course  it  is  with  considerable  regret  I  relinquish 
any  scheme  so  charming  as  the  one  I  have  sketched.  It  is 
very  edifying  and  profitable  to  create  a  world  out  of  your 
own  brains,  and  people  it  with  inhabitants,  who  are  so  many. 
Melchisedecs,  and  have  no  father  nor  mother  but  your  own  ( 
imagination.  ...  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  exist  fifty  or  sixty  J 

cerned  him,  I  confess,  when  I  suddenly  heard  he  was  dead,  I  felt  both  • 
shocked  and  saddened  :  it  was  no  shame  to  feel  so,  was  it  ?   I  scold  i, 
you,  Ellen,  for  writing  illegibly  and  badly,  but  I  think  you  may  re- 
pay the  compliment  with  cent,  per  cent,  interest.    I  am  not  in  the 
humour  for  writing  a  long  letter,  so  good-bye.    God  bless  you. 

'C.  B.' 

^  This  manuscript  is  not  now  traceable.  The  only  fragments  known 
of  later  date  than  the  childish  booklets  which  end  in  1837  do  not  an- 
swer to  the  description.  One  of  these,  *  Emma,*  was  published  in  the 
Cornliill  Magazine  in  1860,  with  a  brief  introduction  by  Thackeray, 
and  has  since  always  been  reprinted  in  the  volume  containing  The 
Professor, 


1840 


HER  FIRST  STORY 


195 


years  ago,  when  the  Ladies'  Magazine ''  was  flourishing  like 
a  green  bay  tree.  In  that  case,  I  make  no  doubt,  my  aspira- 
tions after  literary  fame  would  have  met  with  due  encourage- 
ment, and  I  should  have  had  the  pleasure  of  introducing 
Messrs.  Percy  and  West  into  the  very  best  society,  and 
recording  all  their  sayings  and  doings  in  double-columned, 
close-printed  pages.  ...  I  recollect,  when  I  was  a  child, 
getting  hold  of  some  antiquated  volumes,  and  reading  them 
by  stealth  with  the  most  exquisite  pleasure.  You  give  a 
correct  description  of  the  patient  Grisels  of  those  days.  My 
aunt  was  one  of  them  ;  and  to  this  day  she  thinks  the  tales 
of  the  ^'  Ladies'  Magazine  "  infinitely  superior  to  any  trash 
of  modern  literature.  So  do  I ;  for  I  read  them  in  child- 
hood, and  childhood  has  a  very  strong  faculty  of  admira- 
tion, but  a  very  weak  one  of  criticism.  ...  I  am  pleased 
that  you  cannot  quite  decide  whether  I  am  an  attorney's 
clerk  or  a  novel-reading  dressmaker.  I  will  not  help  you  at 
all  in  the  discovery  ;  and  as  to  my  handwriting,  or  the  lady- 
like touches  in  my  style  and  imagery,  you  must  not  draw 
any  conclusion  from  that — I  may  employ  an  amanuensis. 
Seriously,  sir,  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind 
and  candid  letter.  I  almost  wonder  you  took  the  trouble 
to  read  and  notice  the  novelette  of  an  anonymous  scribe, 
who  had  not  even  the  manners  to  tell  you  whether  he  was  a 
man  or  a  woman,  or  whether  his  ^^0.  T."  meant  Charles 
Timms  or  Charlotte  Tomkins.' 

There  are  two  or  three  things  noticeable  in  the  letter 
from  which  these  extracts  are  taken.  The  first  is  the 
initials  with  which  she  had  evidently  signed  the  former 
one  to  which  she  alludes.  About  this  time,  to  her  more 
familiar  correspondents,  she  occasionally  calls  herself 
^  Charles  Thunder,'  making  a  kind  of  pseudonym  for  her- 
self out  of  her  Christian  name  and  the  meaning  of  her 
Greek  surname.  In  the  next  place,  there  is  a  touch  of  as- 
sumed smartness,  very  different  from  the  simple,  womanly, 
dignified  letter  which  she  had  written  to  Southey,  under 


196 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


nearly  similar  circumstances,  three  years  before.  I  imagine 
the  cause  of  this  difference  to  be  twofold.  Southey,  in  his 
reply  to  her  first  letter,  had  appealed  to  the  higher  parts 
of  her  nature,  in  calling  her  to  consider  whether  literature 
was,  or  was  not,  the  best  course  for  a  woman  to  pursue. 
But  the  person  to  whom  she  addressed  this  one  had  evidently 
confined  himself  to  purely  literary  criticisms,  besides  which 
her  sense  of  humour  was  tickled  by  the  perplexity  which 
her  correspondent  felt  as  to  whether  he  was  addressing 
a  man  or  a  woman.  She  rather  wished  to  encourage  the 
former  idea;  and,  in  consequence,  possibly,  assumed  some- 
thing of  the  flippancy  which  very  probably  existed  in  her 
brother^s  style  of  conversation,  from  whom  she  would  de- 
rive her  notions  of  young  manhood,  not  likely,  as  far  as 
refinement  was  concerned,  to  be  improved  by  the  other 
specimens  she  ]k5  "  seen,  such  as  the  curates  whom  she 
afterwards  represented  in  ^  Shirley.^ 

These  curates  were  full  of  strong  High-Church  feeling. 
Belligerent  by  nature,  it  was  well  for  their  professional  char- 
acter that  they  had,  as  clergymen,  sufficient  scope  for  the 
exercise  of  these  warlike  propensities.  Mr.  Bronte,  with  all 
his  warm  regard  for  Church  and  State,  had  a  great  respect 
for  mental  freedom  ;  and,  though  he  was  the  last  man  in 
the  world  to  conceal  his  opinions,  he  lived  in  perfect  amity 
with  all  the  respectable  part  of  those  who  differed  from  him. 
Not  so  the  curates.  Dissent  was  schism,  and  schism  was 
condemned  in  the  Bible.  In  default  of  turbaned  Saracens 
they  entered  on  a  crusade  against  Methodists  in  broadcloth  ; 
and  the  consequence  was  that  the  Methodists  and  Baptists 
refused  to  pay  the  church  rates.  Miss  Bronte  thus  describes 
the  state  of  things  at  this  time  : — 

^Little  Haworth.has  been  all  in  a  bustle  about  church 
rates  since  you  were  here.  We  had  a  stirring  meeting  in 
the  schoolroom.  Papa  took  the  chair,  and  Mr.  C(ollins) 
and  Mr.  W(eightman)  acted  as  his  supporters,  one  on  each 
side.  There  was  violent  opposition,  which  set  Mr.  C(ollins)'s 


im      THE  CURATES  AND  THE  DISSENTERS  197 


Irish  blood  in  a  ferment,  and  if  papa  had  not  kept  him  quiet, 
partly  by  persuasion  and  partly  by  compulsion,  he  would 
have  given  the  Dissenters  their  kale  through  the  reek — a 
Scotch  proverb,  which  I  will  explain  to  you  another  time. 
He  and  Mr.  W(eightman)  both  bottled  up  their  wrath  for 
that  time,  but  it  was  only  to  explode  with  redoubled  force 
at  a  future  period.  We  had  two  sermons  on  dissent,  and 
its  consequences,  preached  last  Sunday — one  in  the  after- 
noon by  Mr.  W(eightman),  and  one  in  the  evening  by  Mr. 
C(ollins).  All  the  Dissenters  were  invited  to  come  and 
hear,  and  they  actually  shut  up  their  chapels  and  came  in 
a  body;  of  course  the  church  was  crowded.  Mr.  W.^  de- 
livered a  noble,  eloquent,  High-Church,  Apostolical-Succes- 
sion discourse,  in  which  he  banged  the  Dissenters  most  fear- 
lessly and  unflinchingly.  I  thought  they  had  got  enough 
for  one  while,  but  it  was  nothing  to  the  dose  that  was  thrust 
down  their  throats  in  the  evening.  A  keener,  cleverer, 
bolder,  and  more  heart-stirring  harangue  than  that  which 
Mr.  C(ollins)  delivered  from  Haworth  pulpit,  last  Sunday 
evening,  I  never  heard.  He  did  not  rant ;  he  did  not  cant ; 
he  did  not  whine ;  he  did  not  sniggle ;  he  just  got  up  and 
spoke  with  the  boldness  of  a  man  who  was  impressed  with 
the  truth  of  what  he  was  saying,  who  has  no  fear  of  his  en- 
emies and  no  dread  of  consequences.  His  sermon  lasted  an 
hour,  yet  I  was  sorry  when  it  was  done.  I  do  not  say  that 
I  agree  either  with  him  or  with  Mr.  W(eightman),  either  in 
all  or  in  half  their  opinions.  I  consider  them  bigoted,  in- 
tolerant, and  wholly  unjustifiable  on  the  ground  of  common 
sense.  My  conscience  will  not  let  me  be  either  a  Puseyite 
or  a  Hookist ;  77iais,  if  I  were  a  Dissenter,  I  would  have 
taken  the  first  opportunity  of  kicking  or  of  horsewhipping 
both  the  gentlemen  for  their  stern,  bitter  attack  on  my  re- 
ligion and  its  teachers.   But,  in  spite  of  all  this,  I  admired 

^  In  the  original  letter  'Mr.  W.*  of  this  sentence  is  here  called  'Miss 
Celia  Amelia,'  the  nickname  that  the  Bronte  girls  gave  to  Mr.  Weight 
man. 


198 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


the  noble  integrity  which  could  dictate  so  fearless  an  op- 
position against  so  strong  an  antagonist.^ 

^  P.S.  —Mr.  W.  has  given  another  lecture  at  the  Keighley 
Mechanics^  Institution,  and  papa  has  also  given  a  lecture ; 
both  are  spoken  of  very  highly  in  the  newspapers,  and  it  is 
mentioned  as  a  matter  of  wonder  that  such  displays  of  intel- 
lect should  emanate  from  the  village  of  Haworth,  situated 
among  the  bogs  and  mountains,  and,  until  very  lately,  sup- 
posed to  be  in  a  state  of  semi-barbarism.^^  Such  are  the 
words  of  the  newspaper.^ 

To  fill  up  the  account  of  this  outwardly  eventless  year 
I  may  add  a  few  more  extracts  from  the  letters  entrusted 
to  me. 

*May  15,  1840. 

^  Do  not  be  over-persuaded  to  marry  a  man  you  can  never 
respect  —  I  do  ilot  say  love,  because,  I  think,  if  you  can 
respect  a  person  before  marriage,  moderate  love  at  least 
will  come  after ;  and  as  to  intense  passion,  I  am  con- 
vinced that  that  is  no  desirable  feeling.  In  the  first 
place,  it  seldom  or  never  meets  with  a  requital ;  and,  in 
the  second  place,  if  it  did,  the  feeling  would  be  only 
temporary  :  it  would  last  the  honeymoon,  and  then,  per- 
haps, give  place  to  disgust,  or  indifference,  worse  perhaps 
than  disgust.  Certainly  this  would  be  the  case  on  the 
man's  part ;  and  on  the  woman's — God  help  her,  if  she  is 
left  to  love  passionately  and  alone. 

^  I  am  tolerably  well  convinced  that  I  shall  never  marry 
at  all.  Reason  tells  me  so,  and  I  am  not  so  utterly  the 
slave  of  feeling  but  that  I  can  occasionally  hear  her  voice.' 

*  The  letter  continues  : — 

*  I  have  been  painting  a  portrait  of  Agnes  Walton  for  our  friend 
Miss  Celia  Amelia.  You  would  laugh  to  see  how  his  eyes  sparkle  with 
delight  when  he  looks  at  it,  like  a  pretty  child  pleased  with  a  new  play- 
thing. Good-bye  to  you  ;  let  me  have  no  more  of  your  humbug  about 
Cupid,  &c.   You  know  as  well  as  I  do  it  is  all  groundless  trash/ 


1840 


LETTER  TO  A  FRIEND 


199 


'  June  2,  1840. 

'  Mary  is  not  yet  come  to  Haworth  ;  but  she  is  to  come 
on  the  condition  that  I  first  go  and  stay  a  few  days 
there.  If  all  be  well  I  shall  go  next  Wednesday.  I  may 
stay  at  Gomersal  until  Friday  or  Saturday,  and  the  early 
part  of  the  following  week  I  shall  pass  with  you,  if  you 
will  have  me — which  last  sentence  indeed  is  nonsense,  for 
as  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you,  so  I  know  you  will  be  glad  to 
see  me.  This  arrangement  will  not  allow  much  time,  but 
it  is  the  only  practicable  one  which,  considering  all  the  cir- 
cumstances, I  can  effect.  Do  not  urge  mo  to  stay  more 
than  two  or  three  days,  because  I  shall  be  obliged  to  refuse 
you.  I  intend  to  walk  to  Keighley,  there  to  take  the  coach 
as  far  as  B(irstall),  then  to  get  some  one  to  carry  my  box, 
and  to  walk  the  rest  of  the  way  to  G(omersal).  If  I  man- 
age this  I  think  I  shall  contrive  very  well.  I  shall  reach 
B(irstall)  by  about  five  o'clock,  and  then  I  shall  have  the 
cool  of  the  evening  for  the  walk.  I  have  communicated 
the  whole  arrangement  to  Mary.  I  desire  exceedingly  to 
see  both  her  and  you.  Good-bye. 

^C.  B. 

'  C.  B. 
*C.  B. 

'C.  B. 

*If  you  have  any  better  plan  to  suggest  I  am  open  to 
conviction,  provided  your  plan  is  practicable.' 

'  August  20,  1840. 

*  Have  you  seen  anything  of  Miss  H.  lately?^  I  wish 
they,  or  somebody  else,  would  get  me  a  situation.    I  have 

^  In  the  original  letter  *  Miss  H.*  reads  as  *  the  Miss  Woolers.'  This 
letter  opened  as  follows ;  Mrs.  Gaskell  printed  only  its  concluding 
sentences  :— 

*  Dear  Miss  Ellen, — I  was  very  well  pleased  with  your  capital  long 
letter.  A  better  farce  than  the  whole  affair  of  that  letter-opening 
(ducks  and  Mr.  Weightman  included)  was  never  imagined.*  By-the- 

*  Referring  to  a  present  of  birds  which  the  curate  had  sent  to  Miss 
Nussey. 


200  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


answered  advertisements  without  number,  but  my  applica- 
tions have  met  with  no  success. 

'  I  have  got  another  bale  of  French  books  from  Gomersal, 
containing  upwards  of  forty  volumes.  I  have  read  about 
half.  They  are  like  the  rest,  clever,  sophistical,  and  im- 
moral. The  best  of  it  is,  they  give  one  a  thorough  idea  of 
France  and  Paris,  and  are  the  best  substitute  for  French 
conversation  that  I  have  met  with. 

positively  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  you,  for  I  am 
in  a  stupid  humour.  You  must  excuse  this  letter  not  being 
quite  as  long  as  your  own.  I  have  written  to  you  soon,  that 
you  might  not  look  after  the  postman  in  vain.  Preserve 
this  writing  as  a  curiosity  in  caligraphy — I  think  it  is  ex- 
quisite— all  brilliant  black  blots  and  utterly  illegible  letters. 

'Calibajst.^ 

^  The  wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth.  Thou  hearest  the 
sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh,  nor 
whither  it  goeth.^^  That,  I  believe,  is  Scripture,  though  in 

bye,  speaking  of  Mr.  W.,  I  told  you  he  was  gone  to  pass  his  exami- 
nation at  Ripon  six  weeks  ago.  He  is  not  come  back  yet,  and  what 
has  become  of  him  we  don't  know.  Branwell  has  received  one  letter 
since  he  went,  speaking  rapturously  of  Agnes  Walton,  describing  cer- 
tain balls  at  which  he  had  figured,  and  announcing  that  he  had  been 
twice  over  head  and  ears  desperately  in  love.  It  is  my  devout  belief 
that  his  reverence  left  Haworth  with  the  fixed  intention  of  never  return- 
ing. If  he  does  return,  it  will  be  because  he  has  not  been  able  to  get  a 
"  living."  Haworth  is  not  the  place  for  him.  He  requires  novelty,  a 
change  of  faces,  difficulties  to  be  overcome.  He  pleases  so  easily  that 
he  soon  gets  weary  of  pleasing  at  all.  He  ought  not  to  have  been  a 
parson  ;  certainly  he  ought  not.  I  told  Branwell  all  you  said  in  your 
last.  He  said  little,  but  laughed.  I  am  glad  you  have  not  broken 
your  heart  because  John  Branwell  is  married.  Our  august  relations, 
as  you  choose  to  call  them,  are  gone  back  to  London.  They  never 
stayed  with  us,  they  only  spent  one  day  at  our  house.  Have  you  seen 
anything  of  the  Miss  Woolers  lately  ?  I  wish  they,  or  somebody  else, 
would  get  me  a  situation.  I  have  answered  advertisements  without 
number,  but  my  applications  have  met  with  no  success.' 

The  reference  to  John  Branwell  and  'august  relations  Ms  to  a  brief 
visit  of  some  of  the  Penzance  cousins  at  this  time. 


1840 


LETTER  TO  A  FRIEND 


201 


what  chapter  or  book,  or  whether  it  be  correctly  quoted,  I 
can't  possibly  say.  However,  it  behoves  me  to  write  a  letter 
to  a  young  woman  of  the  name  of  Ellen,  with  whom  I  was 
once  acquainted,  in  life's  morning  march,  when  my  spirit 
was  young."  This  young  woman  wished  me  to  write  to  her 
some  time  since,  though  I  have  nothing  to  say — I  e'en  put 
it  off,  day  by  day,  till  at  last,  fearing  that  she  will  curse 
me  by  her  gods,"  I  feel  constrained  to  sit  down  and  tack  a 
few  lines  together,  which  she  may  call  a  letter  or  not  as  she 
pleases.  Now  if  the  young  woman  expects  sense  in  this 
production  she  will  find  herself  miserably  disappointed.  I 
shall  dress  her  a  dish  of  salmagundi — I  shall  cook  a  hash — 
compound  a  stew — toss  up  an  omelette  soiifflee  a  la  frangaise, 
and  send  it  her  with  my  respects.  The  wind,  which  is  very 
high  up  in  our  hills  of  Judea,  though,  I  sujipose,  down  in 
the  Philistine  flats  of  Birstall  parish  it  is  nothing  to  speak 
of,  has  produced  the  same  effects  on  the  contents  of  my 
knowledge  box  that  a  quaigh  of  usquebaugh  does  upon  those 
of  most  other  bipeds.  I  see  everything  coitleiir  de  rose,  and 
am  strongly  inclined  to  dance  a  jig,  if  I  knew  how.  I  think 
I  must  partake  of  the  nature  of  a  pig  or  an  ass — both  which 
animals  are  strongly  affected  by  a  high  wind.  From  what 
quarter  the  wind  blows  I  cannot  tell,  for  I  never  could  in 
my  life;  but  I  should  very  much  like  to  know  how  the 
great  brewing-tub  of  Bridlington  Bay  works,  and  what  sort 
of  yeasty  froth  rises  just  now  on  the  waves. 

woman  of  the  name  of  Mrs.  B.,^  it  seems,  wants  a 
teacher.  I  wish  she  would  have  me  ;  and  I  have  written 
to  Miss  Wooler  to  tell  her  so.  Verily,  it  is  a  delightful 
thing  to  live  here  at  home,  at  full  liberty  to  do  just  what 
one  pleases.    But  I  recollect  some  scrubby  old  fable  about 

^  Mrs.  Thomas  Brooke.  Those  who  knew  her  declared  that  Mrs. 
Brooke  would  have  proved  the  kindest  of  friends  to  the  sensitive 
governess.  She  was  the  mother  of  Mr.  William  Brooke,  of  Northgate 
House,  Huddersfield.  *  At  Northgate  House/  writes  the  Rev.  T.  W. 
Bardsley,  Vicar  of  Huddersfield,  in  a  paper  read  before  the  Bronte 
Society,  '  Charlotte  Bronte  would  have  found  a  congenial  home.* 


LIFE  OF  CHAULOTTE  BRONTfi 


grasshoppers  and  ants,  by  a  scrubby  old  knave  yclept  ^sop; 
the  grasshoppers  sang  all  the  summer  and  starved  all  the 
winter. 

distant  relation  of  mine,  one  Patrick  Branwell,*  has 
set  off  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  wild,  wandering,  adventu- 
rous, romantic^  knight-errant-like  capacity  of  clerk  on  the 
Leeds  and  Manchester  Railroad.'^  Leeds  and  Manchester — 
where  are  they  ?  Cities  in  the  wilderness,  like  Tadmor, 
alias  Palmyra — are  they  not  ? 

^  There  is  one  little  trait  respecting  Mr.  W(eightman),^ 
which  lately  came  to  my  knowledge,  which  gives  a  glimpse 

'  '  One  Patrick  Boanerges '  in  original  letter. 

'  Branwell  had  been  tutor  in  the  family  of  a  Mr.  Postlethwaite,  of 
Broiighton-in-Furness,  from  January  to  June  1840.  He  obtained  his 
situation  as  clerk-in-charge  at  Sowerby  Bridge  on  October  1,  1840,  just 
before  the  opening  of  the  line  from  Hebden  Bridge  to  Normanton.  He 
was  here  some  months,  being  transferred  in  1841  to  Luddenden  Foot,  a 
place  about  a  mile  further  up  the  valley.  He  was  there  for  twelve 
months.  (Leyland's  Bronte  Family.) 
2  The  following  passages  are  omitted  by  Mrs.  Gaskell : — 
•  I  know  Mrs.  Ellen  is  burning  with  eagerness  to  hear  something 
about  William  Weightman.  1  think  I'll  plague  her  by  not  telling  her 
a  word.  To  speak  heaven's  truth,  I  have  precious  little  to  say,  inas- 
much as  I  seldom  see  him,  except  on  a  Sunday,  when  he  looks  as 
handsome,  cheery,  and  good-tempered  as  usual.  I  have  indeed  had 
the  advantage  of  one  long  conversation  since  his  return  from  West- 
moreland, when  he  poured  out  his  whole  warm,  fickle  soul  in  fond- 
ness and  admiration  of  Agnes  Walton.  Whether  he  is  in  love  with 
her  or  not  I  can't  say  ;  I  can  only  observe  that  it  sounds  very  like  it. 
He  sent  us  a  prodigious  quantity  of  game  while  he  was  away  —  a 
brace  of  wild  ducks,  a  brace  of  black  grouse,  a  brace  of  partridges, 
ditto  of  snipes,  ditto  of  curlews,  and  a  large  salmon.  If  you  were  to 
ask  Mr.  Weightman's  opinion  of  my  character  just  now,  he  would 
say  that  at  first  he  thought  me  a  cheerful,  chatty  kind  of  body,  but 
that  on  further  acquaintance  he  found  me  of  a  capricious,  changeful 
temper,  never  to  be  reckoned  on.  He  does  not  know  that  I  have  reg- 
ulated my  manner  by  his — that  I  was  cheerful  and  chatty  so  long 
as  he  was  respectful,  and  that  when  he  grew  almost  contemptuously 
familiar  I  found  it  necessary  to  adopt  a  degree  of  reserve  which  was 
not  natural  and  therefore  painful  to  me.  I  find  this  reserve  ver}''  con- 
venient, and  consequently  I  intend  to  keep  it  up.* 


1840 


LETTER  TO  A  FRIEND 


203 


of  the  better  side  of  his  character.  Last  Saturday  night 
he  had  been  sitting  an  hour  in  the  parlour  with  papa  ;  and, 
as  he  went  away,  I  heard  papa  say  to  him,  "  What  is  the 
matter  with  you  ?  You  seem  in  very  low  spirits  to-night. 

Oh,  I  don^t  know.  I've  been  to  see  a  poor  young  girl, 
who,  I'm  afraid,  is  dying. '^      Indeed  !  what  is  her  name 

Susan  B(land),  the  daughter  of  John  B(land),  the  super- 
intendent." Now  Susan  B(land)  is  my  oldest  and  best 
scholar  in  the  Sunday  school;  and,  when  I  heard  that,  I 
thought  I  would  go  as  soon  as  I  could  to  see  her.  I  did 
go  on  Monday  afternoon,  and  found  her  on  her  way  to 
that  bourn  whence  no  traveller  returns.''  After  sitting 
with  her  some  time,  I  happened  to  ask  her  mother  if  she 
thought  a  little  port  wine  would  do  her  good.  She  replied 
that  the  doctor  had  recommended  it,  and  that  when  Mr. 
W(eightman)  was  last  there  he  had  brought  them  a  bottle 
of  wine  and  a  jar  of  preserves.  She  added,  that  he  was 
always  goodnatured  to  poor  folks,  and  seemed  to  have  a 
deal  of  feeling  and  kind-heartedness  about  him.  No 
doubt  there  are  defects  in  his  character,  but  there  are  also 
good  qualities.  .  .  .  God  bless  him  !  I  wonder  who,  with 
his  advantages,  would  be  without  his  faults.  I  know 
many  of  his  faulty  actions,  many  of  his  weak  points  ;  yet, 
where  I  am,  he  shall  always  find  rather  a  defender  than  an 
accuser.  To  be  sure  my  opinion  will  go  but  a  very  little 
way  to  decide  his  character  :  what  of  that  ?  People  should 
do  right  as  far  as  their  ability  extends.  You  are  not  to 
suppose,  from  all  this,  that  Mr.  W(eighfcman)  and  I  are  on 
very  amiable  terms;  we  are  not  at  all.  We  are  distant, 
cold,  and  reserved.  We  seldom  speak  ;  and  when  we  do, 
it  is  only  to  exchange  the  most  trivial  and  commonplace 
remarks.^ 

The  Mrs.  B(rooke)  alluded  to  in  this  letter,  as  in  want 
of  a  governess,  entered  into  a  correspondence  with  Miss 
Bronte,  and  expressed  herself  much  pleased  with  the  let- 
ters she  received  from  her,  with  the  ^  style  and  candour  of 


204 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


the  application/  in  which  Charlotte  had  taken  care  to  tell 
her,  that  if  she  wanted  a  showy,  elegant,  or  fashionable 
person,  her  correspondent  was  not  fitted  for  such  a  situa- 
tion. But  Mrs.  B(rooke)  required  her  governess  to  give 
instructions  in  music  and  singing,  for  which  Charlotte 
was  not  qualified ;  and,  accordingly,  the  negotiation  fell 
through.  But  Miss  Bronte  was  not  one  to  sit  down  in 
despair  after  disappointment.  Much  as  she  disliked  the 
life  of  a  private  governess,  it  was  her  duty  to  relieve  her 
father  of  the  burden  of  her  support,  and  this  was  the  only 
way  open  to  her.  So  she  set  to  advertising  and  inquiring 
with  fresh  vigour. 

In  the  meantime  a  little  occurrence  took  place,  described 
in  one  of  her  letters,  which  I  shall  give,  as  it  shows  her 
instinctive  aversion  to  a  particular  class  of  men,  whose 
vices  some  have  supposed  she  looked  upon  with  indulgence. 
The  extract  tells  all  that  need  be  known,  for  the  purpose 
I  have  in  view,  of  the  miserable  pair  to  whom  it  relates.^ 

*  This  letter  opens  as  follows  :— 

'November  12,  1840. 

*  My  dear  Nell, — You  will  excuse  this  scrawled  sheet  of  paper,  in- 
asmuch as  I  happen  to  be  out  of  that  article,  this  being  the  only 
available  sheet  I  can  find  in  my  desk.  I  have  effaced  one  of  the  de- 
lectable portraitures,  but  have  spared  the  others — lead-pencil  sketches 
of  horse's  head,  and  man's  head — being  moved  to  that  act  of  clemency 
by  the  recollection  that  they  are  not  the  work  of  my  hand,  but  of  the 
sacred  fingers  of  his  reverence  William  Weightman.  You  will  dis- 
cern that  the  eye  is  a  little  too  elevated  in  the  horse's  head,  otherwise 
X  can  assure  you  it  is  no  such  bad  attempt.  It  shows  taste  and  some- 
thing of  an  artist's  eye.  The  fellow  had  no  copy  for  it.  He  sketched 
it,  and  one  or  two  other  little  things,  when  he  happened  to  be  here 
one  evening,  but  you  should  have  seen  the  vanity  with  which  he  after- 
wards regarded  his  productions.  One  of  them  represented  the  flying 
figure  of  Fame  inscribing  his  own  name  on  the  clouds. 

*  Mrs.  Brooke  and  I  have  interchanged  letters.  She  expressed  her- 
self pleased  with  the  style  of  my  application — with  its  candour,  &c.  (I 
took  care  to  tell  her  that  if  she  wanted  a  showy,  elegant,  fashionable 
personage,  I  was  not  the  man  for  her),  but  she  wants  music  and  sing- 
ing. I  can't  give  her  music  and  singing,  so  of  course  the  negotiation 
is  null  and  void.   Being  once  up,  however,  I  don't  mean  to  sit  down 


1840  A  CASE  OF  MORAL  UGLINESS 


205 


^You  remember  Mr.  and  Mrs.   ?    Mrs.   came 

here  the  other  day^  with  a  most  melancholy  tale  of  her 
wretched  husband^s  drunken,  extravagant,  profligate  hab- 
its. She  asked  papa^s  advice;  there  was  nothing,  she  said, 
but  ruin  before  them.    They  owed  debts  which  they  could 

never  pay.    She  expected  Mr.   's  instant  dismissal 

from  his  curacy ;  she  knew,  from  bitter  experience,  that 
his  vices  were  utterly  hopeless.  He  treated  her  and  her 
child  savagely;  with  much  more  to  the  same  effect.  Papa 
advised  her  to  leave  him  for  ever,  and  go  home,  if  she  had 
a  home  to  go  to.  She  said  this  was  what  she  had  long  re- 
solved to  do ;  and  she  would  leave  him  directly,  as  soon  as 
Mr.  B.  dismissed  him.  She  expressed  great  disgust  and 
contempt  towards  him,  and  did  not  affect  to  have  the 
shadow  of  regard  in  any  way.  I  do  not  wonder  at  this,  but 
I  do  wonder  she  should  ever  marry  a  man  towards  whom 
her  feelings  must  always  have  been  pretty  much  the  same 
as  they  are  now,  I  am  morally  certain  no  decent  woman 
could  experience  anything  but  aversion  towards  such  a  man 

as  Mr.   .    Before  I  knew  or  suspected  his  character, 

and  when  I  rather  wondered  at  his  versatile  talents,  I  felt 
it  in  an  uncontrollable  degree.  I  hated  to  talk  with  him 
— hated  to  look  at  him;  though,  as  I  was  not  certain  that 
there  was  substantial  reason  for  such  a  dislike,  and  thought 
it  absurd  to  trust  to  mere  instinct,  I  both  concealed  and 
repressed  the  feeling  as  much  as  I  could ;  and,  on  all  occa- 
sions, treated  him  with  as  much  civility  as  I  was  mistress 
of.  I  was  struck  with  Mary^s  expression  of  a  similar  feel- 
ing at  first  sight ;  she  said,  when  we  left  him,  That  is  a 
hideous  man,  Charlotte  V'   I  thought,  ^^He  is  indeed.^^' 

till  I  have  got  what  I  want ;  but  there  is  no  sense  in  talking  about 
unfinished  projects,  so  we'll  drop  the  subject.  Consider  this  last 
sentence  a  hint  from  me  to  be  applied  practically.  It  seems  Miss 
Eliza  Wooler's  school  is  in  a  consumptive  state  of  health.  I  have 
been  endeavouring  to  obtain  a  reinforcement  of  pupils  for  her,  but  I 
cannot  succeed,  because  Mrs.  Heap  is  opening  a  new  school  in  Brad- 
ford.' 


CHAPTER  X 


Early  in  March  1841  Miss  Bronte  obtained  her  second 
and  last  situation  as  a  governess/  This  time  she  esteemed 
herself  fortunate  in  becoming  a  member  of  a  kind-hearted 
and  friendly  household.  The  master  of  it  she  especially 
regarded  as  a  valuable  friend,  whose  advice  helped  to  guide 
her  in  one  very  important  step  of  her  life.  But  as  her 
definite  acquirements  were  few,  she  had  to  eke  them  out 
by  employing  her  leisure  time  in  needlework ;  and  alto- 
gether her  position  was  that  of  ^  bonne/  or  nursery  gov- 
erness, liable  to  repeated  and  never-ending  calls  upon  her 
time.  This  description  of  uncertain  yet  perpetual  employ- 
ment, subject  to  the  exercise  of  another  person's  will  at  all 
hours  of  the  day,  was  peculiarly  trying  to  one  whose  life  at 
home  had  been  full  of  abundant  leisure.  Idle  she  never 
was  in  any  place,  but  of  the  multitude  of  small  talks, 
plans,  duties,  pleasures,  &c.,  that  make  up  most  people^s 
days  her  home  life  was  nearly  destitute.     This  made  it 

^  With  Mr,  and  Mrs.  White  at  Upperwood  House,  Rawdon,  Yorks, 
whence  many  of  Miss  Bronte's  letters  were  written.  In  one  of  them 
she  writes  : — 

•  This  place  looks  exquisitely  beautiful  just  now.  The  grounds  are 
certainly  lovely,  and  all  is  as  green  as  an  emerald.  I  wish  you  would 
just  come  and  look  at  it.  Mrs.  White  would  be  as  proud  as  Punch  to 
show  it  you.  Mr.  White  has  been  writing  an  urgent  invitation  to 
papa,  entreating  him  to  come  and  spend  a  week  here.  I  don't  at  all 
wish  papa  to  come  ;  it  would  be  like  incurring  an  obligation.  Some- 
how I  have  managed  to  get  a  good  deal  more  control  over  the  chil- 
dren lately;  this  makes  my  life  a  good  deal  easier.  Also,  by  dint  of 
nursing  the  fat  baby,  it  has  got  to  know  me  and  be  fond  of  me.  I 
suspect  myself  of  growing  rather  fond  of  it.  Exertion  of  any  kind  is 
always  beneficial.* 


1841       NEW  EXPERIENCES  AS  A  GOVERNESS  207 


possible  for  her  to  go  through  long  and  deep  histories  of 
feeling  and  imagination,  for  which  others,  odd  as  it 
sounds,  have  rarely  time.  This  made  it  inevitable  that — 
later  on,  in  her  too  "^hort  career — the  intensity  of  her  feel- 
ing should  wear  out  her  physical  health.  The  habit  of 
'  making  out,'  which  had  grown  with  her  growth,  and 
strengthened  with  her  strength,  had  become  a  part  of  her 
nature.  Yet  all  exercise  of  her  strongest  and  most  char- 
acteristic faculties  was  now  out  of  the  question.  She  could 
not  (as  while  she  was  at  Miss  Wooler's)  feel,  amidst  the 
occupations  of  the  day,  that  when  evening  came  she  might 
employ  herself  in  more  congenial  ways.  No  doubt  all  who 
enter  upon  the  career  of  a  governess  have  to  relinquish 
much;  no  doubt  it  must  ever  be  a  life  of  sacrifice;  but  to 
Charlotte  Bronte  it  was  a  perpetual  attempt  to  force  all  her 
faculties  into  a  direction  for  which  the  whole  of  her  previous 
life  had  unfitted  them.  Moreover  the  little  Brontes  had 
been  brought  up  motherless ;  and  from  knowing  nothing  of 
the  gaiety  and  the  sportiveness  of  childhood — from  never 
having  experienced  caresses  or  fond  attentions  themselves 
— they  were  ignorant  of  the  very  nature  of  infancy,  or  how 
to  call  out  its  engaging  qualities.  Children  were  to  them 
the  troublesome  necessities  of  humanity ;  they  had  never 
been  drawn  into  contact  with  them  in  any  other  way. 
Years  afterwards,  when  Miss  Bronte  came  to  stay  with  us, 
she  watched  our  little  girls  perpetually  ;  and  I  could  not 
persuade  her  that  they  were  only  average  specimens  of  well- 
brought-up  children.  She  was  surprised  and  touched  by 
any  sign  of  thoughtfulness  for  others,  of  kindness  to  animals, 
or  of  unselfishness  on  their  part ;  and  constantly  maintained 
that  she  was  in  the  right,  and  I  in  the  wrong,  when  we  dif- 
fered on  the  point  of  their  unusual  excellence.  All  this  must 
be  borne  in  mind-  while  reading  the  following  letters.  And 
it  must  likewise  be  borne  in  mind — by  those  who,  surviving 
her,  look  back  upon  her  life  from  their  mount  of  observation 
— how  no  distaste,  no  suffering  ever  made  her  shrink  from 
any  course  which  she  believed  it  to  be  her  duty  to  engage  in. 


6  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


*  March  3,  1841. 

^  I  told  you  some  time  since  that  I  meant  to  get  a  situa- 
tion, and  when  I  said  so  my  resolution  was  quite  fixed,  I 
felt  that,  however  often  I  was  disappointed,  I  had  no  in- 
tention of  relinquishing  my  efforts.  After  being  severely 
baffled  two  or  three  times — after  a  world  of  trouble,  in  the 
way  of  correspondence  and  interviews — I  have  at  length 
succeeded,  and  am  fairly  established  in  my  new  place. 

'  The  house  is  not  very  large,  but  exceedingly  comfort- 
able and  well  regulated  ;  the  grounds  are  fine  and  exten- 
sive. In  taking  the  place  I  have  made  a  large  sacrifice  in 
the  way  of  salary,  in  the  hope  of  securing  comfort — by 
which  word  I  do  not  mean  to  express  good  eating  and 
drinking,  or  warm  fire,  or  a  soft  bed,  but  the  society  of 
cheerful  faces,  and  minds  and  hearts  not  dug  out  of  a 
lead  mine,  or  cut  from  a  marble  quarry.  My  salary  is  not 
really  more  than  16  Z.  per  annum^  though  it  is  nominally 
201,  but  the  expense  of  washing  will  be  deducted  there- 
from. My  pupils  are  two  in  number,  a  girl  of  eight  and 
a  boy  of  six.  As  to  my  employers,  you  will  not  expect  me 
to  say  much  about  their  characters  when  I  tell  you  that 
I  only  arrived  here  yesterdayo  I  have  not  the  faculty  of 
telling  an  individuals  disposition  at  first  sight.  Before  I 
can  venture  to  pronounce  on  a  character  I  must  see  it  first 
•^under  various  lights  and  from  various  points  of  view.  All 
I  can  say,  therefore,  is,  both  Mr.  and  Mrs  (White)  seem  to 
me  good  sort  of  people.  I  have  as  yet  had  no  cause  to 
complain  of  want  of  considerateness  or  civility.  My  pupils 
are  wild  and  unbroken,  but  apparently  well  disposed.  I 
wish  I  may  be  able  to  say  as  much  next  time  I  write  to 
you.  My  earnest  wish  and  endeavour  will  be  to  please 
them.  If  I  can  but  feel  that  I  am  giving  satisfaction,  and 
if  at  the  same  time  I  can  keep  my  health,  I  shall,  I  hope, 
be  moderately  happy.  But  no  one  but  myself  can  tell  how 
hard  a  governesses  work  is  to  me — for  no  one  but  myself  is 
aware  how  utterly  averse  my  whole  mind  and  nature  are  to 


1841       NEW  EXPERIENCES  AS  A  GOVERNESS  209 


the  employment.  Do  not  think  that  I  fail  to  blame  my- 
self for  this,  or  that  I  leave  any  means  unemployed  to  con- 
quer this  feeling.  Some  of  my  greatest  difficulties  lie  in 
things  that  would  appear  to  3^ou  comparatively  trivial. 
I  find  it  so  hard  to  repel  the  rude  familiarity  of  children. 
I  find  it  so  difficult  to  ask  either  servants  or  mistress  for 
anything  I  want,  however  much  I  want  it.  It  is  less  pain 
for  me  to  endure  the  greatest  inconvenience  than  to  go  into 
the  kitchen  to  request  its  removal.  I  am  a  fool.  Heaven 
knows  I  cannot  help  it ! 

^Now  can  you  tell  me  whether  it  is  considered  improper 
for  governesses  to  ask  their  friends  to  come  and  see  them  ? 
I  do  not  mean,  of  course,  to  stay,  but  just  for  a  call  of  an 
hour  or  two.  If  it  is  not  absolutely  treason,  I  do  fervently 
request  that  you  will  contrive,  in  some  way  or  other,  to  let 
me  have  a  sight  of  your  face.  Yet  I  feel,  at  the  same  time, 
that  I  am  making  a  very  foolish  and  almost  impracticable 
demand ;  yet  this  is  only  four  miles  from  Birstall  V  ^ 

'March  21. 

^You  must  excuse  a  very  short  answer  to  your  most 
welcome  letter ;  for  my  time  is  entirely  occupied.  Mrs. 
(White)  expected  a  good  deal  of  sewing  from  me.  I  can- 
not sew  much  during  the  day,  on  account  of  the  children, 
who  require  the  utmost  attention.  I  am  obliged,  there- 
fore, to  devote  the  evenings  to  this  business.  Write  to  me 
often  ;  very  long  letters.  It  will  do  both  of  us  good.  This 
place  is  far  better  than  Swarclifte,  but  God  knows  I  have 
enough  to  do  to  keep  a  good  heart  in  the  matter.  What 
you  said  has  cheered  me  a  little.  I  wish  I  could  always 
act  according  to  your  advice.  Home-sickness  atlects  me 
sorely.  I  like  Mr.  (White)  extremely.  The  children  are 
over-indulged,  and  consequently  hard  at  times  to  man- 
age. Do,  do,  do  come  and  see  me  ;  if  it  be  a  breach  of  eti- 
quette, never  mind.    If  you  can  only  stop  an  hour,  come. 


^  This  was  a  mistake.    Birstall  is  ten  miles  from  Rawdon. 


210 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTIE 


Talk  no  more  about  my  forsaking  yon  ;  my  darling,  I 
could  not  afford  to  do  it.  I  find  it  is  not  in  my  nature  to 
get  on  in  this  weary  world  without  sympathy  and  attach- 
ment in  some  quarter ;  and  seldom  indeed  do  we  find  it. 
It  is  too  great  a  treasure  to  be  ever  wantonly  thrown  away 
when  once  secured.' 

Miss  Bronte  had  not  been  many  weeks  in  her  new  situa- 
tion before  she  had  a  proof  of  the  kind-hearted  hospitality 
of  her  employers.  Mr.  (White)  wrote  to  her  father,  and 
urgently  invited  him  to  come  and  make  acquaintance  with 
his  daughter's  new  home,  by  spending  a  week  with  her  in 
it;  and  Mrs.  (White)  expressed  great  regret  when  one  of 
Miss  Bronte's  friends  drove  up  to  the  house  to  leave  a  let- 
\er  or  parcel,  without  entering.  So  she  found  that  all  her 
friends  might  freely  visit  her,  and  that  her  father  would  be 
received  with  especial  gladness.  She  thankfully  acknowl- 
edged this  kindness  in  writing  to  urge  her  friend  afresh  to 
come  and  see  her,  which  she  accordingly  did. 

*  June,  184L 

^You  can  hardly  fancy  it  possible,  I  dare  say,  that  I 
cannot  find  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  scribble  a  note  in;  but 
so  it  is;  and  when  a  note  is  written,  it  has  to  be  carried  a 
mile  to  the  post,  and  that  consumes  nearly  an  hour,  which 
is  a  large  portion  of  the  day.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  (White)  have 
been  gone  a  week.  I  heard  from  them  this  morning.  No 
time  is  fixed  for  their  return,  but  I  hope  it  will  not  be  de- 
layed long,  or  I  shall  miss  the  chance  of  seeing  Anne  this 
vacation.  She  came  home,  I  understand,  last  Wednesday, 
and  is  only  to  be  allowed  three  weeks'  vacation,  because 
the  family  she  is  with  are  going  to  Scarborough.  /  shoiild 
like  to  see  her,  to  judge  for  myself  of  the  state  of  her  health. 
I  dare  not  trust  any  other  person's  report ;  no  one  seems 
minute  enough  in  their  observations.  I  should  very  much 
have  liked  you  to  have  seen  her.  I  have  got  on  very  well 
with  the  servants  and  children  so  far  ;  yet  it  is  dreary, 
solitary  work.  You  can  tell  as  well  as  me  the  lonely  feel- 
ing of  being  without  a  companion.' 


KIND  EMPLOYERS 


211 


Soon  after  this  was  written  Mr.  and  Mrs.  (White)  re- 
turned, in  time  to  allow  Charlotte  to  go  and  look  after 
Annex's  health,  which,  as  she  found  to  her  intense  anxiety, 
was  far  from  strong.  What  could  she  do  to  nurse  and 
cherish  up  this  little  sister,  the  youngest  of  them  all  ? 
Apprehension  about  her  brought  up  once  more  the  idea 
of  keeping  a  school.  If,  by  this  means,  they  three  could 
live  together,  and  maintain  themselves,  all  might  go  well. 
They  would  have  some  time  of  their  own,  in  which  to  try 
again  and  yet  again  at  that  literary  career  which,  in  spite 
of  all  baffling  difficulties,  was  never  quite  set  aside  as  an 
ultimate  object:  but  far  the  strongest  motive  with  Char- 
lotte was  the  conviction  that  Anne's  health  was  so  delicate 
that  it  required  a  degree  of  tending  which  none  but  her  sis- 
ter could  give.  Thus  she  wrote  during  those  midsummer 
holidays : — 

'Haworth:  July  18,  1841. 
^  We  waited  long  and  anxiously  for  you  on  the  Thursday 
that  you  promised  to  come.  I  quite  wearied  my  eyes  with 
watching  from  the  window,  eye-glass  in  hand,  and  some- 
times spectacles  on  nose.  However,  you  are  not  to  blame 
.  .  .  and  as  to  disappointment,  why,  all  must  suffer  disap- 
pointment at  some  period  or  other  of  their  lives.  But  a 
hundred  things  I  had  to  say  to  you  will  now  be  forgotten, 
and  never  said.  There  is  a  project  hatching  in  this  house, 
which  both  Emily  and  I  anxiously  wished  to  discuss  with 
you.  The  project  is  yet  in  its  infancy,  hardly  peeping  from 
its  shell ;  and  whether  it  will  ever  come  out  a  full-fledged 
chicken,  or  will  turn  addle  and  die  before  it  cheeps,  is  one  of 
those  considerations  that  are  but  dimly  revealed  by  the 
oracles  of  futurity.  Now,  don't  be  nonplussed  by  all  this 
metaphorical  mystery.  I  talk  of  a  plain  and  everyday  oc- 
currence, though,  in  Delphic  style,  I  wrap  up  the  informa- 
tion in  figures  of  speech  concerning  eggs,  chickens,  etcaetera, 
etcaeterorum.  To  come  to  the  point :  papa  and  aunt  talk,  by 
fits  and  starts,  of  our — id  est,  Emily,  Anne,  and  myself — 
commencing  a  school!    I  have  often,  you  know,  said  how 


212 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


much  I  wished  such  a  thing;  but  I  never  could  conceive 
where  the  capital  was  to  come  from  for  making  such  a  specu- 
lation. I  was  well  aware,  indeed,  that  aunt  had  money,  but 
I  always  considered  that  she  was  the  last  person  who  would 
offer  a  loan  for  the  purpose  in  question.  A  loan,  however, 
she  has  offered,  or  rather  intimates  that  she  perhaps  will 
offer  in  case  pupils  can  be  secured,  an  eligible  situation  ob- 
tained, &c.  This  sounds  very  fair,  but  still  there  are  matters 
to  be  considered  which  throw  something  of  a  damp  upon 
the  scheme.  I  do  not  expect  that  aunt  will  sink  more  than 
150Z.  in  such  a  venture ;  and  would  it  be  possible  to  estab- 
lish a  respectable  (not  by  any  means  a  showy)  school,  and 
to  commence  housekeeping  with  a  capital  of  only  that 
amount  ?  Propound  the  question  to  your  sister,  if  you 
think  she  can  answer  it ;  if  not,  don't  say  a  word  on  the 
subject.  As  to  getting  into  debt,  that  is  a  thing  we  could 
none  of  us  reconcile  our  mind  to  for  a  moment.  We  do 
not  care  how  modest,  how  humble  our  commencement  be, 
so  it  be  made  on  sure  grounds,  and  have  a  safe  foundation. 
In  thinking  of  all  possible  and  impossible  places  where  we 
could  establish  a  school,  I  have  thought  of  Burlington,  or 
rather  of  the  neighbourhood  of  Burlington.  Do  you  re- 
member whether  there  was  any  other  school  there  besides 

that  of  Miss  ?    This  is,  of  course,  a  perfectly  crude 

and  random  idea.  There  are  a  hundred  reasons  why  it 
should  be  an  impracticable  one.  We  have  no  connections, 
no  acquaintances  there ;  it  is  far  from  home,  &c.  Still,  I 
fancy  the  ground  in  the  East  Riding  is  less  fully  occupied 
than  in  the  West.  Much  inquiry  and  consideration  will  be 
necessary,  of  course,  before  any  place  is  decided  on ;  and  I 
fear  much  time  will  elapse  before  any  plan  is  executed.  .  .  . 
Write  as  soon  as  you  can.  I  shall  not  leave  my  present 
situation  till  my  future  prospects  assume  a  more  fixed  and 
definite  aspect.^ ^ 
A  fortnight  afterwards  we  see  that  the  seed  has  been 

*  In  certain  fragments  of  a  diary  kept  by  Emily  and  Anne  we  find 


1841 


PROJECT  OF  A  SCHOOL 


213 


sown  which  was  to  grow  up  into  a  plan  materially  influ- 
encing her  future  life. 

*  August  7,  1841. 
^  This  is  Saturday  evening ;  I  have  put  the  children  to 
bed ;  now  I  am  going  to  sit  down  and  answer  your  letter.  1 

the  following  memoranda  written  at  this  time— on  Emily's  birthday, 
July  30,  1841.    Emily  writes  :— 

*  It  is  Friday  evening,  near  9  o'clock — wild,  rainy  weather.  I  am 
seated  in  the  dining-room,  having  just  concluded  tidying  our  desk 
boxes,  writing  this  document.  Papa  is  in  the  parlour — aunt  upstairs 
in  her  room.  She  has  been  reading  Blackwood's  Magazine  to  papa. 
Victoria  and  Adelaide  are  ensconced  in  the  peat-house.  Keeper  is  in 
the  kitchen — Hero  in  his  cage.  We  are  all  stout  and  hearty,  as  I  hope 
is  the  case  with  Charlotte,  Branwell,  and  Anne,  of  whom  the  first  is 
at  John  White,  Esq.,  Upper  wood  House,  Rawdon;  the  second  is  at 
Luddenden  Foot ;  and  the  third  is,  I  believe,  at  Scarborough,  indit- 
ing perhaps  a  paper  corresponding  to  this. 

'  A  scheme  is  at  present  in  agitation  for  setting  us  up  in  a  school  of 
our  own  ;  as  yet  nothing  is  determined,  but  I  hope  and  trust  it  may 
go  on  and  prosper  and  answer  our  highest  expectations.  This  day 
four  years  I  wonder  whether  we  shall  still  be  dragging  on  in  our  pres- 
ent condition  or  established  to  our  hearts'  content.    Time  will  show. 

'  1  guess  that  at  the  time  appointed  for  the  opening  of  this  paper  we 
— i.e.  Charlotte,  Anne,  and  I  —  shall  be  all  merrily  seated  in  our  own 
sitting-room  in  some  pleasant  and  flourishing  seminary,  having  just 
gathered  in  for  the  midsummer  Ladyday.  Our  debts  will  be  paid  off, 
and  we  shall  have  cash  in  hand  to  a  considerable  amount.  Papa, 
aunt,  and  Branwell  will  either  have  been  or  be  coming  to  visit  us.  It 
will  be  a  fine  warm  summer  evening,  very  different  from  this  bleak 
look-out,  and  Anne  and  I  will  perchance  slip  out  into  the  garden  for 
a  few  minutes  to  peruse  our  papers.  I  hope  either  this  or  something 
better  will  be  the  case.' 

Anne  writes : — 

'July  30,  A.D.  1841.  This  is  Emily's  birthday.  She  has  now  com- 
pleted her  twenty-third  year,  and  is,  I  believe,  at  home.  Charlotte  is 
a  governess  in  the  family  of  Mr.  White.  Branwell  is  a  clerk  in  the 
railroad  station  at  Luddenden  Foot,  and  I  am  a  governess  in  the  fam- 
ily of  Mr.  Robinson.  I  dislike  the  situation  and  wish  to  change  it  for 
another.  I  am  now  at  Scarborough.  My  pupils  are  gone  to  bed,  and 
I  am  hastening  to  finish  this  before  I  follow  them. 

*  We  are  thinking  of  setting  up  a  school  of  our  own,  but  nothing- 
definite  is  settled  about  it  yet,  and  we  do  not  know  whether  we  shall 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


am  again  by  myself — housekeeper  and  governess — for  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  (White)  are  staying  near  Tadcaster.  To  speak 
truth,  though  I  am  solitary  while  they  are  away,  it  is  still 
by  far  the  happiest  part  of  my  time.  The  children  are  un- 
der decent  control,  the  servants  are  very  observant  and  at- 
tentive to  me,  and  the  occasional  absence  of  the  master  and 
mistress  relieves  me  from  the  duty  of  always  endeavouring 
to  seem  cheerful  and  conversable.  Martha  (Taylor),  it  ap- 
pears, is  in  the  way  of  enjoying  great  advantage  ;  so  is 
Mary,  for  you  will  be  surprised  to  hear  that  she  is  return- 
ing immediately  to  the  Continent  with  her  brother ;  not, 
however,  to  stay  there,  but  to  take  a  month's  tour  and 
recreation.    I  have  had  a  long  letter  from  Mary,  and  a 

be  able  to  or  not.  I  hope  we  shall.  And  I  wonder  what  will  be  our 
condition  and  how  or  where  we  shall  all  be  on  this  day  four  years 
hence  ;  at  which  time,  if  all  be  well,  I  shall  be  twenty-five  years  and 
six  months  old,  Emily  will  be  twenty -seven  years  old,  Bran  well 
twenty-eight  years  and  one  month,  and  Charlotte  twenty-nine  years 
and  a  quarter.  We  are  now  all  separate  and  not  likely  to  meet  again 
for  many  a  weary  week,  but  we  are  none  of  us  ill  that  I  know  of  and 
all  are  doing  something  for  our  own  livelihood  except  Emily,  who, 
however,  is  as  busy  as  any  of  us,  and  in  reality  earns  her  food  and 
raiment  as  much  as  we  do. 

How  little  know  we  what  we  are, 
How  less  what  we  may  be  1 

*  Four  years  ago  I  was  at  school.  Since  then  I  have  been  a  govern- 
ess at  Blake  Hall,  left  it,  come  to  Thorp  Green,  and  seen  the  sea  and 
York  Minster.  Emily  has  been  a  teacher  at  Miss  Patchett's  school, 
and  left  it.  Charlotte  has  left  Miss  Wooler's,  been  a  governess  at  Mrs. 
Sidgwick's,  left  her,  and  gone  to  Mrs.  White's.  Branwell  has  given 
up  painting,  been  a  tutor  in  Cumberland,  left  it,  and  become  a  clerk  on 
the  railroad.  Tabby  has  left  us,  Martha  Brown  has  come  in  her  place. 
We  have  got  Keeper,  got  a  sweet  little  cat  and  lost  it,  and  also  got  a 
hawk.  Got  a  wild  goose,  which  has  flown  away,  and  three  tame  ones, 
one  of  which  has  been  killed.  All  these  diversities,  with  many  others, 
are  things  we  did  not  expect  or  foresee  in  the  July  of  1837.  What 
will  the  next  four  years  bring  forth.  Providence  only  knows.  But 
we  ourselves  have  sustained  very  little  alteration  since  that  time.  I 
have  the  same  faults  that  I  had  then,  only  I  have  more  wisdom  and 
experience,  and  a  little  more  self-possession  than  I  then  enjoyed.' 


MARY  Taylor  at  BRUSSELS 


215 


packet  containing  a  present  of  a  very  handsome  black  silk 
scarf,  and  a  pair  of  beautiful  kid  gloves,  bought  at  Brus- 
sels. Of  course  I  was  in  one  sense  pleased  with  the  gift 
— pleased  that  they  should  think  of  me  so  far  off,  amidst 
the  excitements  of  one  of  the  most  splendid  capitals  of 
Europe;  and  yet  it  felt  irksome  to  accept  it.  I  should 
think  Mary  and  Martha  have  not  more  than  sufficient 
pocket-money  to  supply  themselves.  I  wish  they  had  tes- 
tified their  regard  by  a  less  expensive  token.  Mary's  let- 
ters spoke  of  some  of  the  pictures  and  cathedrals  she  had 
seen  —  pictures  the  most  exquisite,  cathedrals  the  most 
venerable.  I  hardly  know  what  swelled  to  my  throat  as  I 
read  her  letter  :  such  a  vehement  impatience  of  restraint 
and  steady  work  ;  such  a  strong  wish  for  wings — wings 
such  as  wealth  can  furnish  ;  such  an  urgent  thirst  to  see, 
to  know,  to  learn  ;  something  internal  seemed  to  expand 
bodily  for  a  minute.  I  was  tantalised  by  the  consciousness 
of  faculties  unexercised — then  all  collapsed,  and  I  despaired. 
My  dear,  I  would  hardly  make  that  confession  to  any  one 
but  yourself ;  and  to  you,  rather  in  a  letter  than  viva  voce. 
These  rebellious  and  absurd  emotions  were  only  momen- 
tary ;  I  quelled  them  in  five  minutes.  I  hope  they  will 
not  revive,  for  they  were  acutely  painful.  No  further 
steps  have  been  taken  about  the  project  I  mentioned  to 
you,  nor  probably  will  be  for  the  present ;  but  Emily,  and 
Anne,  and  I  keep  it  in  view.  It  is  our  pole  star,  and  we 
look  to  it  in  all  circumstances  of  despondency,  I  begin 
to  suspect  I  am  writing  in  a  strain  which  will  make  you 
think  I  am  unhappy.  This  is  far  from  being  the  case ; 
on  the  contrary,  I  know  my  place  is  a  favourable  one, 
for  a  governess.  What  dismays  and  haunts  me  some- 
times is  a  conviction  that  I  have  no  natural  knack  for 
my  vocation.  If  teaching  only  were  requisite,  it  would 
be  smooth  and  easy  ;  but  it  is  the  living  in  other  peo- 
ple's houses — the  estrangement  from  one's  real  character 
— the  adoption  of  a  cold,  rigid,  apathetic  exterior,  that  is 
painful.  .  .  .  You  will  not  mention  our  school  project 


216  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


at  present.  A  project  not  actually  commenced  is  always 
uncertain.  Write  to  me  often,  my  dear  Nell ;  you  know 
your  letters  are  valued.  Your  ^Hoving  child"  (as  you 
choose  to  call  me  so),  C.  B. 

^P.S. — I  am  well  in  health;  don^t  fancy  I  am  not ;  but  I 
have  one  aching  feeling  at  my  heart  (I  must  allude  to  it, 
though  I  had  resolved  not  to).  It  is  about  Anne;  she  has 
so  much  to  endure  ;  far,  far  more  than  I  ever  had.  When 
my  thoughts  turn  to  her,  they  always  see  her  as  a  patient, 
persecuted  stranger.  I  know  what  concealed  susceptibility 
is  in  her  nature,  when  her  feelings  are  wounded.  I  wish  I 
could  be  with  her,  to  administer  a  little  balm.  She  is  more 
lonely — less  gifted  with  the  power  of  making  friends,  even 
than  I  am.       Drop  the  subject." ' 

She  could  bear  much  for  herself ;  but  she  could  not  pa- 
tiently bear  the  sorrows  of  others,  especially  of  her  sisters  ; 
and  again,  of  the  two  sisters,  the  idea  of  the  little,  gentle, 
youngest  suffering  in  lonely  patience  was  insupportable  to 
her.  Something  must  be  done.  No  matter  if  the  desired 
end  were  far  away  ;  all  time  was  lost  in  which  she  was  not 
making  progress,  however  slow,  towards  it.  To  have  a 
school  was  to  have  some  portion  of  daily  leisure,  uncon- 
trolled but  by  her  own  sense  of  duty ;  it  was  for  the  three 
sisters,  loving  each  other  with  so  passionate  an  affection,  to 
be  together  under  one  roof,  and  yet  earning  their  own  sub- 
sistence ;  above  all,  it  was  to  have  the  power  of  watching 
over  those  two  whose  life  and  happiness  were  ever  to  Char- 
lotte far  more  than  her  own.  But  no  trembling  impatience 
should  lead  her  to  take  an  unwise  step  in  haste.  She  in- 
quired in  every  direction  she  could  as  to  the  chances  which 
a  new  school  might  have  of  success.  In  all  there  seemed 
more  establishments  like  the  one  which  the  sisters  wished 
to  set  up  than  could  be  supported.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 
Superior  advantages  must  be  offered.  But  how  ?  They 
themselves  abounded  in  thought,  power,  and  information  ; 


mi        HER  IDEA  OF  GOING  TO  BRUSSELS  21? 


but  these  are  qualifications  scarcely  fit  to  be  inserted  in  a 
prospectus.  Of  French  they  knew  something  :  enough  to 
read  it  fluently,  but  hardly  enough  to  teach  it  in  compe- 
tition with  natives  or  professional  masters.  Emily  and 
Anne  had  some  knowledge  of  music  ;  but  here  again  it  was 
doubtful  whether,  without  more  instruction,  they  could  en- 
gage to  give  lessons  in  it. 

Just  about  this  time  Miss  Wooler  was  thinking  of  relin- 
quishing her  school  at  Dewsbury  Moor,  and  offered  to  give 
it  up  in  favour  of  her  old  pupils  the  Brontes.  A  sister  of 
hers  had  taken  the  active  management  since  the  time  when 
Charlotte  was  a  teacher  ;  but  the  number  of  pupils  had  di- 
minished ;  and,  if  the  Brontes  undertook  it,  they  would 
have  to  try  and  work  it  up  to  its  former  state  of  prosperity. 
This,  again,  would  require  advantages  on  their  part  which 
they  did  not  at  present  possess,  but  which  Charlotte  caught 
a  glimpse  of.  She  resolved  to  follow  the  clue,  and  never  to 
rest  till  she  had  reached  a  successful  issue.  With  the  forced 
calm  of  a  suppressed  eagerness,  that  sends  a  glow  of  desire 
through  every  word  of  the  following  letter,  she  wrote  to  her 
aunt  thus  : — 

'  September  29,  1841. 
^Dear  Aunt,— I  have  heard  nothing  of  Miss  Wooler  yet 
since  I  wrote  to  her,  intimating  that  I  would  accept  her 
offer.  I  cannot  conjecture  the  reason  of  this  long  silence, 
unless  some  unforeseen  impediment  has  occurred  in  con- 
cluding the  bargain.  Meantime  a  plan  has  been  suggested 
and  approved  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  (White)'  (the  father  and 
mother  of  her  pupils)  ^and  others,  which  I  wish  now  to 
impart  to  you.  My  friends  recommend  me,  if  I  desire  to 
secure  permanent  success,  to  delay  commencing  the  school 
for  six  months  longer,  and  by  all  means  to  contrive,  by 
hook  or  by  crook,  to  spend  the  intervening  time  in  some 
school  on  the  Continent.  They  say  schools  in  England  are 
so  numerous,  competition  so  great,  that  without  some  such 
step  towards  attaining  superiority  we  shall  probably  have  a 
very  hard  struggle,  and  may  fail  in  the  end.    They  say. 


218 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


moreover,  that  the  loan  of  lOOZ.,  which  you  have  been  so 
kind  as  to  offer  us,  will,  perhaps,  not  be  all  required  now, 
as  Miss  Wooler  will  lend  us  the  furniture  ;  and  that,  if  the 
speculation  is  intended  to  be  a  good  and  successful  one, 
half  the  sum,  at  least,  ought  to  be  laid  out  in  the  manner 
I  have  mentioned,  thereby  insuring  a  more  speedy  repay- 
ment both  of  interest  and  principal. 

^  I  would  not  go  to  France  or  to  Paris.  I  would  go  to 
Brussels,  in  Belgium.  The  cost  of  the  journey  there,  at  the 
dearest  rate  of  travelling,  would  be  bl,  ;  living  is  there  lit- 
tle more  than  half  as  dear  as  it  is  in  England,  and  the  fa- 
cilities for  education  are  equal  or  superior  to  any  other  place 
in  Europe.  In  half  a  year  I  could  acquire  a  thorough  fa- 
miliarity with  French.  I  could  improve  greatly  in  Italian, 
and  even  get  a  dash  of  German,  i.e,  providing  my  health 
continued  as  good  as  it  is  now.  Mary  is  now  staying  at 
Brussels,  at  a  first-rate  establishment  there.  I  should  not 
think  of  going  to  the  Chateau  de  Kokleberg,  where  she  is 
resident,  as  the  terms  are  much  too  high ;  but  if  I  wrote  to 
her,  she,  with  the  assistance  of  Mrs.  Jenkins,  the  wife  of 
the  British  Chaplain,  would  be  able  to  secure  me  a  cheap, 
decent  residence  and  respectable  protection.  I  should 
have  the  opportunity  of  seeing  her  frequently;  she  would 
make  me  acquainted  with  the  city;  and,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  her  cousins,  I  should  probably  be  introduced  to 
connections  far  more  improving,  polished,  and  cultivated 
than  any  I  have  yet  known. 

^ These  are  advantages  which  would  turn  to  real  account, 
when  we  actually  commenced  a  school;  and,  if  Emily  could 
share  them  with  me,  we  could  take  a  footing  in  the  world 
afterwards  which  we  could  never  do  now.  I  say  Emily  in- 
stead of  Anne ;  for  Anne  might  take  her  turn  at  some  future 
period,  if  our  school  answered.  I  feel  certain,  while  I  am 
writing,  that  you  will  see  the  propriety  of  what  I  say.  You 
always  like  to  use  your  money  to  the  best  advantage.  You 
are  not  fond  of  making  shabby  purchases;  when  you  do 
confer  a  favour,  it  is  often  done  in  style ;  and  depend  upon 


1841  APPEAL  TO  MISS  BRANWELL 


219 


it  50/.,  or  lOOZ.,  thus  laid  out,  would  be  well  employed. 
Of  course  I  know  no  other  friend  in  the  world  to  whom  I 
could  apply  on  this  subject  except  yourself.  I  feel  an  ab- 
solute conviction  that,  if  this  advantage  were  allowed  us,  it 
would  be  the  making  of  us  for  life.  Papa  will,  perhaps, 
think  it  a  wild  and  ambitious  scheme ;  but  who  ever  rose  in 
the  world  without  ambition  ?  When  he  left  Ireland  to  go 
to  Cambridge  University,  he  was  as  ambitious  as  I  am  now. 
I  want  us  all  to  get  on.  I  know  we  have  talents,  and  I  want 
them  to  be  turned  to  account.  I  look  to  you,  aunt,  to  help 
us.  I  think  you  will  not  refuse.  I  know,  if  you  consent, 
it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  you  ever  repent  your  kindness.^ 
This  letter  was  written  from  the  house  in  which  she  was 
residing  as  governess.  It  was  some  little  time  before  an 
answer  came.  Much  had  to  be  talked  over  between  the 
father  and  aunt  in  Haworth  Parsonage.  At  last  consent 
was  given.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  she  confided  her  plan 
to  an  intimate  friend.  She  was  not  one  to  talk  overmuch 
about  any  project,  while  it  remained  uncertain — to  speak 
about  her  labour,  in  any  direction,  while  its  result  was 
doubtful. 

*  November  2,  1841. 

^Now  let  us  begin  to  quarrel.  In  the  first  place,  I  must 
consider  whether  I  will  commence  operations  on  the  de- 
fensive or  the  offensive.  The  defensive,  I  think.  You  say, 
and  I  see  plainly,  that  your  feelings  have  been  hurt  by  an 
apparent  want  of  confidence  on  my  part.  You  heard  from 
others  of  Miss  Wooler's  overtures  before  I  communicated 
them  to  you  myself.  This  is  true.  I  was  deliberating  on 
plans  important  to  my  future  prospects.  I  never  exchanged 
a  letter  with  you  on  the  subject.  True  again.  This  appears 
strange  conduct  to  a  friend,  near  and  dear,  long  known,  and 
never  found  wanting.  Most  true.  I  cannot  give  you  my 
excuses  for  this  behaviour;  this  word  excuse  implies  confes- 
sion of  a  fault,  and  I  do  not  feel  that  I  have  been  in  fault. 
The  plain  fact  is,  I  was  not,  I  am  not  now,  certain  of  my 
destiny.    On  the  contrary,  I  have  been  most  uncertain. 


220  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


perplexed  with  contradictory  schemes  and  proposals.  My 
time,  as  I  have  often  told  you,  is  fully  occupied,  yet  I  had 
many  letters  to  write,  which  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
should  be  written.  I  knew  it  would  avail  nothing  to  write  to 
you  then  to  say  I  was  in  doubt  and  uncertainty — hoping  this, 
fearing  that,  anxious,  eagerly  desirous  to  do  what  seemed 
impossible  to  be  done.  When  I  thought  of  you  in  that  busy 
interval,  it  was  to  resolve  that  you  should  know  all  when 
my  way  was  clear,  and  my  grand  end  attained.  If  I  could 
I  would  always  work  in  silence  and  obscurity,  and  let  my 
efforts  be  known  by  their  results.  Miss  Wooler  did  most 
kindly  propose  that  I  should  come  to  Dewsbury  Moor,  and 
attempt  to  revive  the  school  her  sister  had  relinquished. 
She  offered  me  the  use  of  her  furniture.  At  first  I  received 
the  proposal  cordially,  and  prepared  to  do  my  utmost  to 
bring  about  success ;  but  a  fire  was  kindled  in  my  very  heart, 
which  I  could  not  quench.  I  so  longed  to  increase  my  at- 
tainments— to  become  something  better  than  lam;  a  glimpse 
of  what  I  felt  I  showed  to  you  in  one  of  my  former  letters — 
only  a  glimpse ;  Mary  cast  oil  upon  the  flames — encouraged 
me,  and  in  her  own  strong,  energetic  language  heartened 
me  on.  I  longed  to  go  to  Brussels;  but  how  could  I  get 
there  ?  I  wished  for  one,  at  least,  of  my  sisters  to  share 
the  advantage  with  me.  I  fixed  on  Emily.  She  deserved 
the  reward,  I  knew.  How  could  the  point  be  managed  ?  In 
extreme  excitement  I  wrote  a  letter  home,  which  carried 
the  day.  I  made  an  appeal  to  my  aunt  for  assistance,  which 
was  answered  by  consent.  Things  are  not  settled ;  yet  it  is 
sufficient  to  say  we  have  a  chance  of  going  for  half  a  year. 
Dewsbury  Moor  is  relinquished.  Perhaps  fortunately  so. 
In  my  secret  soul  I  believe  there  is  no  cause  to  regret  it.  My 
plans  for  the  future  are  bounded  to  this  intention :  if  I  once 
get  to  Brussels,  and  if  my  health  is  spared  I  will  do  my  best  to 
make  the  utmost  of  every  ad  vantage  that  shall  come  within  my 
reach.   When  the  half-year  is  expired  I  will  do  what  I  can.^ 

*  Here  followed  some  advice  to  her  friend  on  marriage,  the  latter 


i 


PLAN  FOR  GOING  TO  LILLE 


221 


^  Believe  me,  though  I  was  born  in  April,  the  month  of 
cloud  and  sunshine,  I  am  not  changeful.  My  spirits  are 
unequal,  and  sometimes  I  speak  vehemently,  and  sometimes 
I  say  nothing  at  all ;  but  I  have  a  steady  regard  for  you,  and 
if  you  will  let  the  cloud  and  shower  pass  by,  be  sure  the 
sun  is  always  behind,  obscured,  but  still  existing/ 

At  Christmas  she  left  her  situation,  after  a  parting  with 
her  employers  which  seems  to  have  affected  and  touched 
her  greatly.  '  They  only  made  too  much  of  me,^  was  her 
remark,  after  leaving  this  family;      did  not  deserve  it.^ 

All  four  children  hoped  to  meet  together  at  their  father^s 
house  this  December.  Branwell  expected  to  have  a  short 
leave  of  absence  from  his  employment  as  a  clerk  on  the 
Leeds  and  Manchester  Railway,  in  which  he  had  been  en- 
gaged for  five  months.  Anne  arrived  before  Christmas 
Day.  She  had  rendered  herself  so  valuable  in  her  difficult 
situation  that  her  employers  vehemently  urged  her  to  return, 
although  she  had  announced  her  resolution  to  leave  them ; 
partly  on  account  of  the  harsh  treatment  she  had  received, 
and  partly  because  her  stay  at  home,  during  her  sisters" 
absence  in  Belgium,  seemed  desirable,  when  the  age  of  the 
three  remaining  inhabitants  of  the  parsonage  was  taken 
into  consideration. 

After  some  correspondence  and  much  talking  over  plans 
at  home,  it  seemed  better,  in  consequence  of  letters  which 
they  received  from  Brussels  giving  a  discouraging  account 
of  the  schools  there,  that  Charlotte  and  Emily  should  go  to 
an  institution  at  Lille,  in  the  north  of  France,  which  was 
highly  recommended  by  Baptist  Noel  and  other  clergymen. 
Indeed,  at  the  end  of  January  it  was  arranged  that  they 
were  to  set  off  for  this  place  in  three  weeks,  under  the  escort 
of  a  French  lady,  then  visiting  in  London.  The  terms  were 
601,  each  pupil,  for  board  and  French  alone  ;  but  a  separate 
room  was  to  be  allowed  for  this  sum ;  without  this  indul- 
gence it  was  lower.    Charlotte  writes — 

having  at  the  moment  a  zealous  wooer.  The  advice  concluded,  *  I  be- 
lieve it  is  better  to  marry  to  love  than  to  marry  for  love.' 


223 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


*  January  20,  1842. » 
^  I  consider  it  kind  in  aunt  to  consent  to  an  extra  sum  for 
a  separate  room.  We  shall  find  it  a  great  privilege  in  many 
ways.  I  regret  the  change  from  Brussels  to  Lille  on  many 
accounts,  chiefly  that  I  shall  not  see  Martha.  Mary  has 
been  indefatigably  kind  in  providing  me  with  information. 
She  has  grudged  no  labour,  and  scarcely  any  expense,  to 
that  end.  Mary's  price  is  above  rubies.  I  have,  in  fact, 
two  friends — you  and  her — staunch  and  true,  in  whose 
faith  and  sincerity  I  have  as  strong  a  belief  as  I  have  in  the 
Bible.  I  have  bothered  you  both — you  especially ;  but  you 
always  get  the  tongs  and  heap  coals  of  fire  upon  my  head. 
I  have  had  letters  to  write  lately  to  Brussels,  to  Lille,  and 
to  London.  I  have  lots  of  chemises,  night-gowns,  pocket- 
handkerchiefs,  and  pockets  to  make  ;  besides  clothes  to  re- 
pair. I  have  been,  every  week  since  I  came  home,  expect- 
ing to  see  Branwell,  and  he  has  never  been  able  to  get  over 
yet.  We  fully  expect  him,  however,  next  Saturday.  Un- 
der these  circumstances  how  can  I  go  visiting  ?  You  tan- 
talise me  to  death  with  talking  of  conversations  by  the  fire- 
side. Depend  upon  it  we  are  not  to  have  any  such  for 
many  a  long  month  to  come.  I  get  an  interesting  impres- 
sion of  old  age  upon  my  face ;  and  when  you  see  me  next 
I  shall  certainly  wear  caps  and  spectacles.^ 

'  This  letter  to  Miss  Ellen  Nussey  opened  as  follows : — 
*I  cannot  quite  enter  into  your  friends'  reasons  for  not  permitting 
you  to  come  to  Hawortb  ;  but,  as  it  is  at  present,  and  in  all  human 
probability  will  be  for  an  indefinite  time  to  come,  impossible  for  me  to 
get  to  Brookroyd,  the  balance  of  accounts  is  not  so  unequal  as  it  might 
otherwise  be.  We  expect  to  leave  England  in  less  than  three  weeks, 
but  we  are  not  yet  certain  of  the  day,  as  it  will  depend  upon  the  con- 
venience of  a  French  lady  now  in  London,  Madame  Marzials,  under 
whose  escort  we  are  to  sail.  Our  place  of  destination  is  changed. 
Papa  received  an  unfavourable  account  from  Mr.  or  rather  Mrs. 
Jenkins  of  the  French  schools  in  Brussels,  and  on  further  inquiry  an 
institution  in  Lille,  in  the  north  of  France,  was  recommended  by  Bap- 
tist Noel  and  other  clergymen,  and  to  that  place  it  is  decided  that  we 
are  to  go.  The  terms  are  fifty  pounds  for  each  pupil  for  board  and 
French  alone.' 


CHAPTER  XI 


I  AM  not  aware  of  all  the  circamstances  which  led  to  the 
relinquishment  of  the  Lille  plan.  Brussels  had  had  from  the 
first  a  strong  attraction  for  Charlotte  ;  and  the  idea  of  going 
there,  in  preference  to  any  other  place,  had  only  been  given 
up  in  consequence  of  the  information  received  of  the  sec- 
ond-rate character  of  its  schools.  In  one  of  her  letters  refer- 
ence has  been  made  to  Mrs.  Jenkins,  the  wife  of  the  chaplain 
of  the  British  Embassy.  At  the  request  of  his  brother — a 
clergyman,  living  not  many  miles  from  Haworth,  and  an 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  Bronte's — she  made  much  inquiry,  and 
at  length,  after  some  discouragement  in  her  search,  heard 
of  a  school  which  seemed  in  every  respect  desirable.  There 
was  an  English  lady  who  had  long  lived  in  the  Orleans 
family,  amidst  the  various  fluctuations  of  their  fortunes, 
and  who,  when  the  Princess  Louise  was  married  to  King 
Leopold,  accompanied  her  to  Brussels,  in  the  capacity  of 
reader.  This  lady's  granddaughter  was  receiving  her  edu- 
cation at  the  pensionnat  of  Madame  Heger  ;  and  so  satisfied 
was  the  grandmother  with  the  kind  of  instruction  given 
that  she  named  the  establishment,  with  high  encomiums, 
to  Mrs.  Jenkins  ;  and,  in  consequence,  it  was  decided  that, 
if  the  terms  suited.  Miss  Bronte  and  Emily  should  proceed 
thither.  M.  Heger  informs  me  that,  on  receipt  of  a  letter 
from  Charlotte,  making  very  particular  inquiries  as  to  the 
possible  amount  of  what  are  usually  termed  ^  extras,^  he 
and  his  wife  were  so  much  struck  by  the  simple,  earnest 
tone  of  the  letter  that  they  said  to  each  other,  ^  These  are 
the  daughters  of  an  English  pastor,  of  moderate  means, 
anxious  to  learn  with  an  ulterior  view  of  instructing  others. 


224  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


and  to  whom  the  risk  of  additional  expense  is  of  great  con- 
sequence. Let  us  name  a  specific  sum,  within  which  all 
expenses  shall  be  included/^ 

This  was  accordingly  done ;  the  agreement  was  con- 
cluded, and  the  Brontes  prepared  to  leave  their  native 
county  for  the  first  time,  if  we  except  the  melancholy  and 

*  The  circular  issued  by  Madame  Heger  ran  as  follows  : — 

MAISON  D'EDUCATION 
Pour  les  jeunes  Demoiselles. 

Sous  LA  DIRECTION 

DE  MADAME  H^JGER-PARENT, 
Rm  cTIsabelle  3t,  d  Bruxelles. 

Get  etablissement  est  situe  dans  I'endroit  le  plus  salubre  de  la  ville. 

Le  cours  d'instriiction,  base  sur  la  Religion,  comprend  essentielle- 
ment  la  Langue  Fran^aise,  I'Histoire,  TArithmetique,  la  Geographie, 
TEcriture,  ainsi  que  tons  les  ouvrages  ^  Taiguille  que  doit  connaitre 
une  demoiselle  bien  elevee. 

La  sante  des  el^ves  est  I'objet  d'une  surveillance  active  ;  les  parents 
peuvent  se  reposer  avec  securite  sur  les  mesures  qui  ont  ete  prises  h 
cet  egard  dans  I'etablissement. 

Le  prix  de  la  pension  est  de  650  francs,  celui  de  la  demi-pensix)n  est 
de  350  francs,  payables  par  quartiers  et  d'avance.  II  n'y  a  d'autres 
frais  accessoires  que  les  etrennes  des  domestiques. 

II  n'est  fait  aucune  deduction  pour  le  temps  que  les  el^ves  passent 
chez  elles  dans  le  courant  de  Tannee.  Le  nombre  des  eldves  etant 
limite,  les  parents  qui  desireraient  reprendre  leurs  enfants  sont  tenus 
d'en  prevenir  la  directrice  trois  mois  d'avance. 

Les  lemons  de  musique,  de  langues  etrang^res,  etc.  etc.,  sont  au 
compte  des  parents. 

Le  costume  des  pensionnaires  est  uniforme. 

La  directrice  s'engage  t  repondre  ^  toutes  les  demandes  qui  pour- 
raient  lui  ^tre  adressees  par  les  parents  relativement  aux  autres  details 
de  son  institution. 

OBJETS  1  FOURNIR. 

Lit  complet,  bassin,  aiguiere  et  draps  de  lit. 

Serviettes  de  table. 

Une  malle  fermant  £i  clef. 

Un  convert  d^argent. 

Un  gobelet. 

Si  les  el^ves  ne  sont  pas  de  Bruxelles,  on  leur  fournira  un  lit  garni 
moyennant  34  francs  par  an. 


1842 


BRUSSELS 


325 


memorable  residence  at  Cowan  Bridge.  Mr.  Bronte  deter- 
mined to  accompany  his  daughters.  Mary  and  her  brother, 
who  were  experienced  in  foreign  travelling,  were  also  of  the 
party.  Charlotte  first  saw  London  in  the  day  or  two  they 
now  stopped  there  ;  and,  from  an  expression  in  one  of  her 
snbseqaent  letters,  they  all,  I  believe,  stayed  at  the  Chapter 
Coffee  House,  Paternoster  Row — a  strange,  old-fashioned 
tavern,  of  which  I  shall  have  more  to  say  hereafter. 

Mary^'s  account  of  their  journey  is  thus  given  : — 

^In  passing  through  London  she  seemed  to  think  our 
business  was,  and  ought  to  be,  to  see  all  the  pictures  and 
statues  we  could.  She  knew  the  artists,  and  knew  where 
other  productions  of  theirs  were  to  be  found.  I  don^t  re- 
member what  we  saw  except  St.  PauFs.  Emily  was  like 
her  in  these  habits  of  mind,  but  certainly  never  took  her 
opinion,  but  always  had  one  to  offer.  ...  I  don^t  know 
what  Charlotte  thought  of  Brussels.  We  arrived  in  the 
dark,  and  went  next  morning  to  our  respective  schools  to 
see  them.  We  were,  of  course,  much  preoccupied,  and  our 
prospects  gloomy.  Charlotte  used  to  like  the  country  round 
Brussels.  At  the  top  of  every  hill  you  see  something. 
She  took  long  solitary  walks  on  the  occasional  holidays.' 

Mr.  Bronte  took  his  daughters  to  the  Rue  d'Isabelle, 
Brussels ;  remained  one  night  at  Mr.  Jenkins's ;  and  straight 
returned  to  his  wild  Yorkshire  village. 

What  a  contrast  to  that  must  the  Belgian  capital  have 
presented  to  those  two  young  women  thus  left  behind  ! 
Suffering  acutely  from  every  strange  and  unaccustomed 
contact — far  away  from  their  beloved  home  and  the  dear 
moors  beyond — their  indomitable  will  was  their  great  sup- 
port.   Charlotte's  own  words,  with  regard  to  Emily,  are — 

'After  the  age  of  twenty,  having  meantime  studied  alone 
with  diligence  and  perseverance,  she  went  with  me  to  an 
establishment  on  the  Continent.  The  same  suffering  and 
conflict  ensued,  heightened  by  the  strong  recoil  of  her  up- 
right, heretic,  and  English  spirit  from  the  gentle  Jesuitry  of 
15 


226 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


the  foreign  and  Romish  system.  Once  more  she  seemed 
sinking,  but  this  time  she  rallied  through  the  mere  force 
of  resolution :  with  inward  remorse  and  shame  she  looked 
back  on  her  former  failure,  and  resolved  to  conquer,  but 
the  victory  cost  her  dear.  She  was  never  happy  till  she 
carried  her  hard-won  knowledge  back  to  the  remote  Eng- 
lish village,  the  old  parsonage  house,  and  desolate  York- 
shire hills/* 

They  wanted  learning.  They  came  for  learning.  They 
would  learn.  Where  they  had  a  distinct  purpose  to  be 
achieved  in  intercourse  with  their  fellows  they  forgot 
themselves ;  at  all  other  times  they  were  miserably  shy. 
Mrs.  Jenkins  told  me  that  she  used  to  ask  them  to  spend 
Sundays  and  holidays  with  her,  until  she  found  that  they 
felt  more  pain  than  pleasure  from  such  visits.  Emily 
hardly  ever  uttered  more  than  a  monosyllable.  Charlotte 
was  sometimes  excited  sufficiently  to  speak  eloquently  and 
well — on  certain  subjects — but,  before  her  tongue  was  thus 
loosened,  she  had  a  habit  of  gradually  wheeling  round  on 
her  chair,  so  as  almost  to  conceal  her  face  from  the  person 
to  whom  she  was  speaking. 

And  yet  there  was  much  in  Brussels  to  strike  a  respon- 
sive chord  in  her  powerful  imagination.  At  length  she 
was  seeing  somewhat  of  that  grand  old  world  of  which  she 
had  dreamed.  As  the  gay  crowds  passed  by  her  so  had 
gay  crowds  paced  those  streets  for  centuries,  in  all  their 
varying  costumes.  Every  spot  told  an  historic  tale,  ex- 
tending back  into  the  fabulous  ages  when  Jan  and  Jan- 
nika,  the  aboriginal  giant  and  giantess,  looked  over  the 
wall,  forty  feet  high,  of  what  is  now  the  Rue  Villa  Her- 
mosa,  and  peered  down  upon  the  new  settlers  who  were  to 
turn  them  out  of  the  country  in  which  they  had  lived 
since  the  Deluge.  The  great  solemn  Cathedral  of  St. 
Gudule,  the  religious  paintings,  the  striking  forms  and 

*  Introduction  to  Selections  from  Poems  by  Ellis  Bell, 


1842 


THE  RUE  D'ISABELLE 


227 


ceremonies  of  the  Eomish  Church — all  made  a  deep  im- 
pression on  the  girls,  fresh  from  the  bare  walls  and  sim- 
ple worship  of  Haworth  Church.  And  then  they  were  in- 
dignant with  themselves  for  having  been  susceptible  of 
this  impression,  and  their  stout  Protestant  hearts  arrayed 
themselves  against  the  false  Duessa  that  had  thus  imposed 
upon  them. 

The  very  building  they  occupied  as  pupils,  in  Madame 
Heger^s  pensionnat,  had  its  own  ghostly  train  of  splendid 
associations,  marching  for  ever,  in  shadowy  procession, 
through  and  through  the  ancient  rooms  and  shaded  alleys 
of  the  gardens.  From  the  splendour  of  to-day  in  the  Rue 
Royale,  if  you  turn  aside,  near  the  statue  of  General  Bel- 
iard,  you  look  down  four  flights  of  broad  stone  steps  upon 
the  Rue  dTsabelle.  The  chimneys  of  the  houses  in  it  are 
below  your  feet.  Opposite  to  the  lowest  flight  of  steps 
there  is  a  large  old  mansion  facing  you,  with  a  spacious 
walled  garden  behind — and  to  the  right  of  it.  In  front  of 
this  garden,  on  the  same  side  as  the  mansion,  and  with 
great  boughs  of  trees  sweeping  over  their  lowly  roofs,  is  a 
row  of  small,  picturesque,  old-fashioned  cottages,  not  un- 
like, in  degree  and  uniformity,  to  the  almshouses  so  often 
seen  in  an  English  country  town.  The  Rue  d^Isabelle 
looks  as  though  it  had  been  untouched  by  the  innova- 
tions of  the  builder  for  the  last  three  centuries  ;  and  yet 
any  one  might  drop  a  stone  into  it  from  the  back  windows 
of  the  grand  modern  hotels  in  the  Rue  Royale,  built  and 
furnished  in  the  newest  Parisian  fashion.^ 

*The  Rue  d'Isabelle  has  been  altered  by  the  builder  within  the 
past  year  or  two  (1898-9),  the  Pensionnat  Heger  having  been  abandoned 
and  replaced  by  municipal  school  buildings.  The  exterior  is  un- 
changed ;  the  interior  is  entirely  altered.  I  visited  the  house  in  1897, 
and  found  the  place  a  desert  ;  the  garden,  wild  and  overgrown,  yet 
containing  the  very  pear  trees  that  had  pleased  Charlotte  and  her  sis- 
ter. Here  also  were  the  glass  corridors  with  vines  trailing  over  them, 
the  empty  dormitories,  the  oratory  with  the  crucifix  removed  ;  not  the 
slightest  structural  alteration  had  taken  place  since  the  days  wljeh 
Charlotte  and  Emily  Bronte  had  been  pupils ;  and  the  same  family, 


228  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


In  the  thirteenth  centnry  the  Rue  d^Isabelle  was  called 
the  Fosse-anx-Chiens;  and  the  kennels  for  the  ducal  hounds 
occupied  the  place  where  Madame  Ileger's  pensionnat  now 
stands.  A  hospital  (in  the  ancient  large  meaning  of  the 
word)  succeeded  to  the  kennel.  The  houseless  and  the 
poor^  perhaps  the  leprous,  were  received,  by  the  brethren 
of  a  religious  order,  in  a  building  on  this  sheltered  site;  and 
what  bad  been  a  fosse  for  defence  was  filled  up  with  herb 
gardens  and  orchards  for  upwards  of  a  hundred  years. 
Then  came  the  aristocratic  guild  of  the  cross-bow  men — that 
company  the  members  whereof  were  required  to  prove  their 
noble  descent  untainted  for  so  many  generations  before  they 
could  be  admitted  into  the  guild ;  and^  being  admitted,  were 
required  to  swear  a  solemn  oath  that  no  other  pastime  or 
exercise  should  take  up  any  part  of  their  leisure,  the  whole 
of  which  was  to  be  devoted  to  the  practice  of  the  noble  art 
of  shooting  with  the  cross-bow.  Once  a  year  a  grand  match 
was  held,  under  the  patronage  of  some  saint,  to  whose 
church  steeple  was  affixed  the  bird,  or  semblance  of  a  bird, 
to  be  hit  by  the  victor.^  The  conqueror  in  the  game  was 
Roi  des  Arbalteriers  for  the  coming  year,  and  received  a 
jewelled  decoration  accordingly,  which  he  was  entitled  to 
wear  for  twelve  months ;  after  which  he  restored  it  to  the 

the  daughters  of  Madame  Heger,  still  engaged  in  school-keeping,  had 
but  just  vacated  the  building  at  the  instigation  of  the  city  author- 
ities. 

*  Scott  describes  the  sport,  *  Shooting  at  the  Popinjay,'  *  as  an  an- 
cient game  formerly  practised  with  archery,  but  at  this  period  (1679) 
with  firearms.  This  was  the  figure  of  a  bird  decked  with  particoloured 
feathers,  so  as  to  resemble  a  popinjay  or  parrot.  It  was  suspended  to 
a  pole,  and  served  for  a  mark  at  which  the  competitors  discharged 
their  fusees  and  carbines  in  rotation,  at  the  distance  of  seventy  paces. 
He  whose  ball  brought  down  the  mark  held  the  proud  title  of  Captain 
of  the  Popinjay  for  the  remainder  of  the  day,  and  was  usually  escorted 
in  triumph  to  the  most  respectable  change-house  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, where  the  evening  was  closed  with  conviviality,  conducted 
under  his  auspices,  and,  if  he  was  able  to  maintain  it,  at  his  expense.' — 
Old  Mortality  {Note  by  Mrs.  Gaskell). 


LIBRARY 
OF  1HE 
UNIVERSITY  oflLLINOii 


1843  THE  ^ARBALETRIERS  DU  GRAND  SERMENT'  229 


guild,  to  be  again  striven  for.  The  family  of  him  who  died 
during  the  year  that  he  was  king  were  bound  to  present  the 
decoration  to  the  church  of  the  patron  saint  of  the  guild, 
and  to  furnish  a  similar  prize  to  be  contended  for  afresh. 
These  noble  cross-bow  men  of  the  Middle  Ages  formed  a 
sort  of  armed  guard  to  the  powers  in  existence,  and  almost 
invariably  took  the  aristocratic  in  preference  to  the  demo- 
cratic side,  in  the  numerous  civil  dissensions  of  the  Flem- 
ish towns.  Hence  they  were  protected  by  the  authorities, 
and  easily  obtained  favourable  and  sheltered  sites  for  their 
exercise  ground.  And  thus  they  came  to  occupy  the  old 
fosse,  and  took  possession  of  the  great  orchard  of  the  hos- 
pital, lying  tranquil  and  sunny  in  the  hollow  below  the 
rampart. 

But,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  it  became  necessary  to 
construct  a  street  through  the  exercise  ground  of  the  ^  Ar- 
baletriers  du  Grand  Serment,^  and,  after  much  delay,  the 
company  were  induced  by  the  beloved  Infanta  Isabella  to 
give  up  the  requisite  plot  of  ground.  In  recompense  for 
this,  Isabella — who  herself  was  a  member  of  the  guild,  and 
had  even  shot  down  the  bird  and  been  queen  in  1615 — made 
many  presents  to  the  arbaletriers;  and,  in  return,  the  grate- 
ful city,  which  had  long  wanted  a  nearer  road  to  St.  Gudule, 
but  been  baffled  by  the  noble  archers,  called  the  street  after 
her  name.  She,  as  a  sort  of  indemnification  to  the  arbale- 
triers, caused  a  ^  great  mansion  ^  to  be  built  for  their  accom- 
modation in  the  new  Rue  dTsabelle.  This  mansion  was 
placed  in  front  of  their  exercise  ground,  and  was  of  a  square 
shape.    On  a  remote  part  of  the  walls,  may  still  be  read — 

PHILLIPPO   nil.    HISPAN.    REGE   ISABKLLA-CLARA-EUGENIA   HISPAN.  INFANS 
MAGNiE   GULD^   REGINA   GULD^   FRATRIBUS  POSUIT. 

In  that  mansion  were  held  all  the  splendid  feasts  of  the 
Grand  Serment  des  Arbaletriers.  The  master  archer  lived 
there  constantly,  in  order  to  be  ever  at  hand  to  render  his 
services  to  the  guild.  The  great  saloon  was  also  used  for 
the  Court  balls  and  festivals,  when  the  archers  were  not 


230 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


admitted.  The  Infanta  caused  other  and  smaller  houses  to 
be  built  in  her  new  street,  to  serve  as  residences  for  her 
^  garde  noble  ;^  and  for  her  ^  garde  bourgeoise'  a  small 
habitation  each,  some  of  which  still  remain,  to  remind  us 
of  English  almshouses.  The  ^  great  mansion,'  with  its  quad- 
rangular form;  the  spacious  saloon  —  once  used  for  the 
archducal  balls,  where  the  dark,  grave  Spaniards  mixed 
with  the  blond  nobility  of  Brabant  and  Flanders  —  now  a 
schoolroom  for  Belgian  girls  ;  the  cross-bow  men's  archery- 
ground — all  are  there — the  2^e7ision}iat  of  Madame  Heger.^ 
This  lady  was  assisted  in  the  work  of  instruction  by  her 
husband — a  kindly,  wise,  good,  and  religious  man — whose 
acquaintance  I  am  glad  to  have  made,  and  who  has  fur- 
nished me  with  some  interesting  details,  from  his  wife's 
recollections  and  his  own,  of  the  two  Miss  Brontes  during 
their  residence  in  Brussels.  He  had  the  better  opportuni- 
ties of  watching  them  from  his  giving  lessons  in  the 

^  A  letter  by  Madame  Heger  which  was  addressed  to  Miss  Lsetitia 
Wheelwright,  one  of  the  English  pupils  at  the  Pensionnat  Heger,  will 
be  read  with  interest: — 

*Ma  ch^re  Lsetitia, — Je  me  proposals  de  faire  visits  ^  madame 
votre  mamau  hier  matin.  J'ai  ete  indisposee  et  obligee  de  garder  la 
chambre  ;  aujoiird'hui  je  suis  mieux,  mais  ne  pouvant  sortir  je  desire 
au  moius  savoir  de  vos  nouvelles.  Comment  se  porte  votre  maman  ? 
Je  Grains  bien  que  les  veilles,  la  fatigue  et  le  chagrin  n'alterent  sa 
sante.  Heureusement  tous  ses  enfants  sont  si  bons,  si  bien  eleves, 
qu'elle  trouvera  dans  leurs  soins  une  compensation  a  la  perte  cruelle 
qu'elle  a  faite. 

'Lorsque  j'irai  voir  vos  parents  je  leur  dirai  combien  j'apprecie  tout 
ce  que  la  lettre  de  votre  papa  a  d'obligeant.  Je  lui  suis  bien  recou- 
naissante  d'avoir  pense  ^  nous  dans  un  moment  aussi  douloureux  et 
qui  laissera  ici,  comme  chez  vous,  de  longues  traces.  Le  petit  ange 
que  nous  pleurons  merite  tous  nos  regrets,  cependant  nous  devons 
nous  dire  qu'il  est  a  I'abri  des  mis^res  et  des  chagrins  que  nous  avous 
encore  h  supporter. 

'  Adieu,  ma  chere  Lsetitia  ;  embrassez  pour  moi  vos  petites  soeurs, 
et  presentez  a  vos  chers  parents,  que  j'estime  chaque  jour  davantage, 
ma  respectueuse  affection. 

*  Votre  devouee 

*Lundi,  21  9bre.'  *Z.  Heger. 


l^RIBUTE  TO  M.  HEGER 


231 


French  language  and  literature  in  the  school.  A  short 
extract  from  a  letter,  written  to  me  by  a  French  lady  resi- 
dent in  Brussels,  and  well  qualified  to  judge,  will  help  to 
show  the  estimation  in  which  he  is  held. 

^  Je  ne  connais  pas  personnellement  M.  Heger,  mais  je 
sais  qu^il  est  pen  de  caracteres  aussi  nobles,  aussi  admira- 
bles  que  le  sien.  II  est  un  des  membres  les  plus  zeles  de 
cette  Societe  de  S.  Vincent  de  Paul  dont  je  Vai  deja  parle, 
et  ne  se  contente  pas  de  servir  les  pauvres  et  les  malades, 
mais  leur  consacre  encore  les  soirees.  Apres  des  journees 
absorbees  tout  entieres  par  les  devoirs  que  sa  place  lui 
impose,  il  reunit  les  pauvres,  les  ouvriers,  leur  donne  des 
cours  gratuits,  et  trouve  encore  le  moyen  de  les  amuser  en 
les  instruisant.  Ce  devouement  te  dira  assez  que  M.  Heger 
est  profondement  et  ouvertement  religieux.  II  a  des 
manieres  franches  et  avenantes ;  il  se  fait  aimer  de  tons 
ceux  qui  Tapprochent,  et  surtout  des  enfants.  II  a  la 
parole  facile,  et  possede  a  un  haut  degre  Teloquence  du 
bon  sens  et  du  coeur.  II  n'est  point  auteur.  Homme  de 
zele  et  de  conscience,  il  vient  de  se  demettre  des  fonctions 
elevees  et  lucratives  qu'il  exergait  a  TAthenee,  celles  de 
Prefet  des  Etudes,  parce  qu'il  ne  pent  y  realiser  le  bien 
qu'il  avait  espere,  introduire  Tenseignement  religieux  dans 
le  programme  des  etudes.  J'ai  vu  une  fois  Madame  Heger, 
qui  a  quelque  chose  de  froid  et  de  compasse  dans  son 
maintien,  et  qui  previent  pen  en  sa  faveur.  Je  la  crois 
pourtant  aimee  et  appreciee  par  ses  eleves.^ 

There  were  from  eighty  to  a  hundred  pupils  in  the  pen- 
sionnat  when  Charlotte  and  Emily  Bronte  entered  it  in 
February  1842. 

M.  Heger's  account  is  that  they  knew  nothing  of  French.^ 

^  Charlotte  Bronte  hnd  made  a  translation  into  English  verse  from 
Voltaire's  Henriade  wlien  quite  a  child — in  1830 — and  a  simple  and 
not  very  accurate  letter  in  that  language  to  her  friend  Ellen  Nussey 
is  given  antCy  p.  126 ;  but  to  translate  from  the  French,  and  even  to 
write  simple  letters,  is  not  to  know  the  language  as  a  professor  would 


232  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


I  suspect  they  knew  as  much  (or  as  little),  for  all  conver- 
sational purposes,  as  any  English  girls  do  who  have  never 
been  abroad,  and  have  only  learnt  the  idioms  and  pronun- 
ciation from  an  Englishwoman.  The  two  sisters  clung 
together,  and  kept  apart  from  the  herd  of  happy,  boisterous 
well  befriended  Belgian  girls,  who,  in  their  turn,  thought 
the  new  English  pupils  wild  and  scared  -  looking,  with 
strange,  odd,  insular  ideas  about  dress  ;  for  Emily  had 
taken  a  fancy  to  the  fashion,  ugly  and  preposterous  even 
during  its  reign,  of  gigot  sleeves,  and  persisted  in  wearing 
them  long  after  they  were  ^gone  out/  Her  petticoats,  too, 
had  not  a  curve  or  a  wave  in  them,  but  hung  down  straight 
and  long,  clinging  to  her  lank  figure.  The  sisters  spoke 
to  no  one  but  from  necessity.^  They  were  too  full  of  ear- 
nest thought,  and  of  the  exile's  sick  yearning,  to  be  ready 
for  careless  conversation  or  merry  game.  M.  Heger,  who 
had  done  little  but  observe,  during  the  first  few  weeks  of 
their  residence  in  the  Rue  d'Isabelle,  perceived  that  with 
their  unusual  characters,  and  extraordinary  talents,  a  dif- 
ferent mode  must  be  adopted  from  that  in  which  he  gen- 
erally taught  French  to  English  girls.  He  seems  to  have 
rated  Emily's  genius  as  something  even  higher  than  Char- 
lotte's ;  and  her  estimation  of  their  relative  powers  was  the 
same.  Emily  had  a  head  for  logic,  and  a  capability  of 
argument,  unusual  in  a  man,  and  rare  indeed  in  a  woman, 
according  to  M.  Heger.  Impairing  the  force  of  this  gift 
was  a  stubborn  tenacity  of  will,  which  rendered  her  obtuse 
to  all  reasoning  where  her  own  wishes  or  her  own  sense  of 
right  was  concerned.  '  She  should  have  been  a  man — a 
great  navigator,'  said  M.  Heger  in  speaking  of  her.    ^  Her 

define  knowledge.  Charlotte  was  probably  too  shy  to  attempt  to 
speak  a  word. 

^  Charlotte  Bronte  was  thoroughly  insular  in  her  attitude  towards 
her  Belgian  schoolfellows.  Her  friendship  with  Laetitia  Wheelwright, 
one  of  the  four  English  girls  in  the  school,  began  when  she  observed 
Miss  Wheelwright  looking  round  contemptuously  upon  her  compan- 
ions.   '  It  was  so  very  English,'  Miss  Bronte  remarked. 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS  AT  BRUSSELS  233 


powerful  reason  would  have  deduced  new  spheres  of 
discovery  from  the  knowledge  of  the  old  ;  and  her  strong, 
imperious  will  would  never  have  been  daunted  by  oppo- 
sition or  difficulty  ;  never  have  given  way  but  with  life.' 
And  yet,  moreover,  her  faculty  of  imagination  was  such 
that,  if  she  had  written  a  history,  her  view  of  scenes  and 
characters  would  have  been  so  vivid,  and  so  powerfully 
expressed,  and  supported  by  such  a  show  of  argument, 
that  it  would  have  dominated  over  the  reader,  whatever 
might  have  been  his  previous  opinions  or  his  cooler  per- 
ceptions of  its  truth.  But  she  appeared  egotistical  and 
exacting  compared  with  Charlotte,  who  was  always  un- 
selfish (this  is  M.  Heger's  testimony)  ;  and  in  the  anx- 
iety of  the  elder  to  make  her  younger  sister  contented 
she  allowed  her  to  exercise  a  kind  of  unconscious  tyranny 
over  her. 

After  consulting  with  his  wife  M.  Heger  told  them 
that  he  meant  to  dispense  with  the  old  method  of  ground- 
ing in  grammar,  vocabulary,  &c.,  and  to  proceed  on  a 
new  plan — something  similar  to  what  he  had  occasion- 
ally adopted  with  the  elder  among  his  French  and  Bel- 
gian pupils.  He  proposed  to  read  to  them  some  of  the 
masterpieces  of  the  most  celebrated  French  authors  (such 
as  Casimir  de  la  Vigne's  poem  on  the  ^  Death  of  Joan 
of  Arc,'  parts  of  Bossuet,  the  admirable  translation  of 
the  noble  letter  of  St.  Ignatius  to  the  Roman  Christians 
in  the  '  Bibliotheque  Choisie  des  P^res  de  TEglise,' &c.), 
and,  after  having  thus  impressed  the  complete  effect  of 
the  whole,  to  analyse  the  parts  with  them,  pointing  out 
in  what  such  or  such  an  author  excelled,  and  where  were 
the  blemishes.  He  believed  that  he  had  to  do  with  pu- 
pils capable,  from  their  ready  sympathy  with  the  intel- 
lectual, the  refined,  the  polished,  or  the  noble,  of  catching 
the  echo  of  a  style,  and  so  reproducing  their  own  thoughts 
in  a  somewhat  similar  manner. 

After  explaining  his  plan  to  them  he  awaited  their  reply. 
Emily  spoke  first,  and  said  that  she  saw  no  good  to  be 


234  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


derived  from  it ;  and  that,  by  adopting  it,  they  would  lose 
all  originality  of  thought  and  expression.  She  would  have 
entered  into  an  argument  on  the  subject,  but  for  this  M. 
Heger  had  no  time.  Charlotte  then  spoke  ;  she  also  doubted 
the  success  of  the  plan ;  but  she  would  follow  out  M.  Heger^s 
advice,  because  she  was  bound  to  obey  him  while  she  was 
his  pupil.  Before  speaking  of  the  results  it  may  be  desira- 
ble to  give  an  extract  from  one  of  her  letters,  which  shows 
some  of  her  first  impressions  of  her  new  life. 

'Brussels  :  1842 (May  ?) 

^  I  was  twenty-six  years  old  a  week  or  two  since  ;  and  at 
this  ripe  time  of  life  I  am  a  schoolgirl,  and,  on  the  whole, 
very  happy  in  that  capacity.  It  felt  very  strange  at  first 
to  submit  to  authority  instead  of  exercising  it — to  obey 
orders  instead  of  giving  them  ;  but  I  like  that  state  of 
things.  I  returned  to  it  with  the  same  avidity  that  a  cow, 
that  has  long  been  kept  on  dry  hay,  returns  to  fresh  grass. 
Don't  laugh  at  my  simile.  It  is  natural  to  me  to  submit, 
and  very  unnatural  to  command. 

^This  is  a  large  school,  in  which  there  are  about  forty 
externes,  or  day  pupils,  and  twelve  pensi07inaires,  or  board- 
ers. Madame  Heger,  the  head,  is  a  lady  of  precisely  the 
same  cast  of  mind,  degree  of  cultivation,  and  quality  of 
intellect  as  Miss  (Catherine  Wooler).  I  think  the  severe 
points  are  a  little  softened,  because  she  has  not  been  dis- 
appointed, and  consequently  soured.  In  a  word,  she  is  a 
married  instead  of  a  maiden  lady.  There  are  three  teach- 
ers in  the  school  —  Mademoiselle  Blanche,  Mademoiselle 
Sophie,  and  Mademoiselle  Marie.  The  two  first  have  no 
particular  character.  One  is  an  old  maid,  and  the  other 
will  be  one.  Mademoiselle  Marie  is  talented  and  original, 
but  of  repulsive  and  arbitrary  manners,  which  have  made 
the  whole  school,  except  myself  and  Emily,  her  bitter  ene- 
mies. No  less  that  seven  masters  attend,  to  teach  the  dif- 
ferent branches  of  education — French,  Drawing,  Music, 
Singing,  Writing,  Arithmetic,  and  German.    All  in  the 


1843 


M.  AND  MADAME  HEGER 


235 


house  are  Catholics  except  ourselves,  one  other  girl,  and 
the  gouvemante  of  Madame^s  children,  an  Englishwoman, 
in  rank  something  between  a  lady^s  maid  and  a  nursery 
governess.  The  difference  in  country  and  religion  makes 
a  broad  line  of  demarcation  between  us  and  all  the  rest. 
We  are  completely  isolated  in  the  midst  of  numbers.  Yet 
I  think  I  am  never  unhappy ;  my  present  life  is  so  delight- 
ful, so  congenial  to  my  own  nature,  compared  with  that 
of  a  governess.  My  time,  constantly  occupied,  passes  too 
rapidly.  Hitherto  both  Emily  and  I  have  had  good  health, 
and  therefore  we  have  been  able  to  work  well.  There  is 
one  individual  of  whom  I  have  not  yet  spoken — M.  Heger, 
the  husband  of  Madame.  He  is  professor  of  rhetoric,  a 
man  of  power  as  to  mind,  but  very  choleric  and  irritable 
in  temperament.^  He  is  very  angry  with  me  just  at  pres- 
ent, because  I  have  written  a  translation  which  he  chose  to 
stigmatise  as  ^'peu  correct.^^  He  did  not  tell  me  so,  but 
wrote  the  word  on  the  margin  of  my  book,  and  asked,  in 
brief,  stern  phrase,  how  it  happened  that  my  compositions 
were  always  better  than  my  translations,  adding  that  the 
thing  seemed  to  him  inexplicable.  The  fact  is,  some  weeks 
ago,  in  a  high-flown  humour,  he  forbade  me  to  use  either 
dictionary  or  grammar  in  translating  the  most  difficult 
English  compositions  into  French.  This  makes  the  task 
rather  arduous,  and  compels  me  every  now  and  then  to 
introduce  an  English  word,  which  nearly  plucks  the  eyes 
out  of  his  head  when  he  sees  it.  Emily  and  he  don^t  draw 
well  together  at  all.  Emily  works  like  a  horse,  and  she 
has  had  great  difficulties  to  contend  with — far  greater  than 
I  have  had.  Indeed,  those  who  come  to  a  French  school 
for  instruction  ought  previously  to  have  acquired  a  consid- 

*  This  letter  was  to  Ellen  Niissey.  A  sentence  omitted  here  runs, 
*  A  little  black  being,  with  a  face  that  varies  in  expression.  Sometimes 
he  borrows  the  lineaments  of  an  insane  tom-cat,  sometimes  those  of  a 
delirious  hyena  ;  occasionally,  but  very  seldom,  he  discards  these  peril- 
ous attractions  and  assumes  an  air  not  above  one  hundred  degrees 
removed  from  mild  and  gentleman-like/ 


236  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfl 


erable  knowledge  of  the  French  language,  otherwise  they 
will  lose  a  great  deal  of  time,  for  the  course  of  instruction  is 
adapted  to  natives  and  not  to  foreigners  ;  and  in  these  large 
establishments  they  will  not  change  their  ordinary  course 
for  one  or  two  strangers.  The  few  private  lessons  that  M. 
Heger  has  vouchsafed  to  give  us  are,  I  suppose,  to  be  con- 
sidered a  great  favour;  and  I  can  perceive  they  have  al- 
ready excited  much  spite  and  jealousy  in  the  school. 

^You  will  abuse  this  letter  for  being  short  and  dreary, 
and  there  are  a  hundred  things  which  I  want  to  tell  you, 
but  I  have  not  time..  Brussels  is  a  beautiful  city.  The 
Belgians  hate  the  English.  Their  external  morality  is 
more  rigid  than  ours.  To  lace  the  stays  without  a  hand- 
kerchief on  the  neck  is  considered  a  disgusting  piece  of  in- 
delicacy.^ 

The  passage  in  this  letter  where  M.  Heger  is  represented 
as  prohibiting  the  use  of  dictionary  or  grammar  refers,  I 
imagine,  to  the  time  I  have  mentioned,  when  he  deter- 
mined to  adopt  a  new  method  of  instruction  in  the  French 
language,  of  which  they  were  to  catch  the  spirit  and  rhythm 
rather  from  the  ear  and  the  heart,  as  its  noblest  accents  fell 
upon  them,  than  by  over-careful  and  anxious  study  of  its 
grammatical  rules.  It  seems  to  me  a  daring  experiment 
on  the  part  of  their  teacher  ;  but  doubtless  he  knew  his 
ground  ;  and  that  it  answered  is  evident  in  the  composition 
of  some  of  Charlotte's  devoirs,  written  about  this  time.  I 
am  tempted,  in  illustration  of  this  season  of  mental  cult- 
ure, to  recur  to  a  conversation  which  I  had  with  M.  Heger 
on  the  manner  in  which  he  formed  his  pupiFs  style,  and  to 
give  a  proof  of  his  success,  by  copying  a  devoir  of  Char- 
lotte's with  his  remarks  upon  it. 

He  told  me  that  one  day  this  summer  (when  the  Brontes 
had  been  for  about  four  months  receiving  instruction  from 
him)  he  read  to  them  Victor  Hugo's  celebrated  portrait  of 
Mirabeau,  ^mais  dans  ma  legon  je  me  bornais  a  ce  qui  con- 
cerne  Mirabeau  orateur,  C'est  apres  Fanalyse  de  ce  morceau, 
considere  surtout  du  point  de  vue  du  fond,  de  la  disposition. 


1842       CHARLOTTE^S  FIRST  FRENCH  THEME  237 


de  ce  qa'on  pourrait  appeler  la  charpente,  qu^ont  ete  faits 
les  deux  portraits  que  je  vous  donne/  He  went  on  to  say 
that  he  had  pointed  out  to  them  the  fault  in  Victor  Hugo's 
style  as  being  exaggeration  in  conception^  and,  at  the  same 
time,  he  had  made  them  notice  the  extreme  beauty  of  his 
'  nuances '  of  expression.  They  were  then  dismissed  to  choose 
the  subject  of  a  similar  kind  of  portrait.  The  selection  M. 
Heger  always  left  to  them  ;  for  ^  it  is  necessary/  he  ob- 
served, ^before  sitting  down  to  write  on  a  subject,  to  have 
thoughts  and  feelings  about  it.  I  cannot  tell  on  what  sub- 
ject your  heart  and  mind  have  been  excited.  I  must  leave 
that  to  you."  The  marginal  comments,  I  need  hardly  say, 
are  M.  Heger's ;  the  words  in  italics  are  Charlotte's,  for  which 
he  substitutes  a  better  form  of  expression,  which  is  placed 
between  brackets. 

iMITATIOiT. 

*  Le  31  juillet  1842. 
^Portrait  de  Pierre  l'Hermite.  Charlotte 
Bronte. 

^De  temps  en  temps,  il  parait  sur  la  terre  des 
hommes  destines  a  etre  les  instruments  [predes-  J^^^'J^'^g^^j^^ 
tines]  de  grands  changements  moraux  ou  politiques.  pression^? 
Quelquefois  c'est  un  conquerant,  un  Alexandre  ou 
un  Attila,  qui  passe  comme  un  ouragan,  et  purifie 
I'atmosphere  morale,  comme  Forage  purifie  Fatmos- 
phere  physique  ;  quelquefois,  c'est  un  revolution- 
naire,  un  Cromwell,  ou  un  Robespierre,  qui  fait 
expier  par  un  roi  /\  les  vices  de  toute  une  dynastie ; 
quelquefois  c'est  un  enthousiaste  religieux  comme 
Mahomet,  ou  Pierre  l'Hermite,  qui,  avec  le  seul 
levier  de  la  pensee,  souleve  des  nations  entieres, 
les  deracine  et  les  transplante  dans  des  climats  ^®  ^^^^'.^ 
nouveaux,  peuplant  VAsie  avec  les  liabitants  de  qu'a 
V Europe,    Pierre  l'Hermite  etait  gentilhomme  de  J"^^"^^®^ 
Picardie,  en  France,  pourquoi  done  n'a-t-il  passe  quL/Vous 
sa  vie  comme  les  autres  gentilshommes,  ses  contem-  ^^'''^ez  en 
porains,  ont  pass6  la  leur,  a  table,  a  la  chasse,  dans  ^^^^^'^'^^ 


238 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


son  lit,  sans  s^inquieter  de  Saladin,  on  de  ses  Sarra- 
sins  ?    N'est-ce  pas  parce  qn^il  y  a,  dans  certaines 
natnres,  une  ardeur  [un  foyer  d'activite]  indompt- 
vousavez  permet  pas  de  rester  inactives,  qui 

commence    7/-         a  j:  i 

aparierde  IBS  JOT CB  a  86  retuuer  afiu  d  Bxevcer  les  faciiUes  puis- 
vou^^tes  ^^^^'^^       dormant  sont  prSfes,  comme 

entree  dans  Samsofi,  d  hHsev  Us  uceuds  qui  les  retiennefit? 
marihez  au  '  Pierre  prit  la  profession  des  armes  ;  si  son  ar- 
but.  deur  avait  cie  de  cette  espece  [s^il  n'avait  en  que 
cette  ardeur  vulgaire]  qui  provient  d^une  robnste 
sante,  il  aurait  [c'etit]  ete  un  brave  militaire,  et 
rien  de  plus ;  mais  son  ardeur  etait  celle  de  Tame, 
sa  flamme  etait  pure  et  elle  s^elevait  vers  le  ciel. 

'  Sa7is  doute  [II  est  vrai  que]  la  jeunesse  de 
Pierre  etait  [fut]  troublee  par  passions  orageuses ; 
les  natures  puissantes  sont  extermes  en  tout,  elles 
ne  connaissent  la  tiedeur  ni  dans  le  bien,  ni  dans  le 
mal ;  Pierre  done  chercha  d^abord  avidement  la 
gloire  qui  se  fletrit  et  les  plaisirs  qui  trompent, 
mais  il  Jit  hientot  la  decouverte  [bientot  il  s^apergut] 
que  ce  qu^il  poursuivait  n^etait  qu^une  illusion 
Inutile,     ^  laquelle  il  ne  pourrait  iamais  atteindre ;  il  re- 

quand  vou3  ^      ^  ~  = — - 

avezdit  touma  douc  sur  ses  pas,  il  recomnien9a  le  voyage 
illusion.  \^  yi^^  mais  cette  fois  il  evita  le  chemin  spacieux 
qui  mene  a  la  perdition  et  il  prit  le  chemin  etroit 
qui  mene  a  la  vie;  puisque  [comme]  le  trajet  etait 
long  et  difficile  il  jeta  la  casque  et  les  armes  du 
soldat,  et  se  vetit  de  Thabit  simple  du  moine.  A  la 
vie  militaire  succeda  la  vie  monastique,  car  les 
extremes  se  touchent,  et  cTiez  Vhomme  sincere  la 
sincerite  du  repentir  amene  [necessairement  a  la 
suite]  avec  lui  la  rigueur  de  la  penitence.  [Voila 
done  Pierre  devenu  moine !] 

^Mais  Pierre  [il]  avait  en  lui  un  principe  qui 
Tempechait  de  rester  longtemps  inactif,  ses  idees, 
sur  quel  sujet  qu'il  soit  [que  ce  ftit],  ne  pouvaient 
pas  6tre  bornees  ;  il  ne  lui  suffisait  pas  que  lui- 


1843    AN  EXERCISE  IN  FRENCH  COMPOSITION  239 


meme  Mt  religieux,  que  Ini-meme  ftit  convaincn  de 
la  realite  de  Christianisme  (sic),  il  fallait  que  toute 
TEurope,  que  toute  TAsie,  partageat  sa  conviction 
et  professat  la  croyance  de  la  Croix.  La  Piete 
[fervente]  elevee  par  le  Genie,  nourrie  par  la 
Solitude, nattre  line  espece  inspiration  [exalta 
son  ame  jusqu^a  Tinspiration]  da?is  son  dme,  et 
lorsqu^il  quitta  sa  cellule  et  reparut  dans  le  monde, 
il  portait,  comme  Mo'ise,  Tempreinte  de  la  Divinite 
sur  son  front,  et  tout  [tous]  reconnurent  en  lui  le 
veritable  apotre  de  la  Croix. 

'Mahomet  n^avait  jamais  remue  les  moUes 
nations  de  TOrient  comme  alors  Pierre  remua  les 
peuples  austeres  de  TOccident ;  il  fallait  que  cette 
eloquence  ftit  d'une  force  presque  miraculeuse  qui 
pouvait  [puisqu^elle]  persuader  [ait]  aux  rois  de 
vendre  leurs  royaumes  afin  de  procurer  [pour  avoir] 
des  armes  et  des  ^ol^?^^^ pour  aider  [a  ollrir]  a  Pierre 
dans  la  guerre  sainte  qu'il  voulait  livrer  aux 
infideles.  La  puissance  de  Pierre  [FHermite]  n^etait 
nullement  une  puissance  physique,  car  la  nature,  ou 
pour  mieux  dire,  Dieu  est  impartial  dans  la  distribu- 
tion de  ses  dons ;  il  accorde  a  Tun  de  ses  enfants 
la  grace,  la  beaute,  les  perfections  corporelles,  a 
I'autre  Tesprit,  la  grandeur  morale.  Pierre  done 
etait  un  homme  petit,  d^une  physionomie  peu 
agreable  ;  mais  il  avait  ce  courage,  cette  Constance, 
cet  enthousiasme,  cette  energie  de  sentiment  qui 
ecrase  toute  opposition,  et  qui  fait  que  la  volonte 
d^un  seul  homme  devienne  la  loi  de  toute  une  nation. 
Pour  se  former  une  juste  idee  de  Tinfluence  qu^ex- 
erga  cet  homme  sur  les  caracteres  [choses]  et  les 
idees  de  son  temps,  il  faut  se  le  representer  an 
milieu  de  Tarmee  des  croises  dans  son  double  role 
de  prophete  et  de  guerrier ;  le  pauvre  hermite, 
vetu  du  pauvre  [de  Thumble]  habit  gris,  est  \h 
plus  puissant  qu'un  roi ;  il  est  entoure  d'une  [de  la] 


240 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


multitude  [avide],  une  multitude  qui  ne  voit  quelui^ 
tandis  que  lui,  il  ne  voit  que  le  ciel ;  ses  yeux 
leves  semblent  dire  :  Je  vols  Dieu  et  les  anges,  et 
j'ai  perdu  de  vue  la  terre  V 

'  Dans  ce  7mnmit  le  [Mais  ce]  pauvre  habit  [froc] 
gris  est  pour  lui  comme  le  manteau  d'Eli  jah ;  il  Ten- 
veloppe  d^inspiration ;  il  [Pierre]  lit  dans  Tavenir ; 
il  voit  Jerusalem  delivree ;  [il  voit]  le  saint  sepulcre 
libre;  il  voit  le  Croissant  argent  est  arrache  du 
Temple,  et  FOriflamme  et  la  Croix  rouge  sont 
etablies  a  sa  place ;  non  seulement  Pierre  voit  ces 
merveilles,  mais  il  les  fait  voir  a  tons  ceux  qui 
Tentourent;  ilravive  Tesperance  et  le  courage  dans 
[tous  ces  corps  epuises  de  fatigues  et  de  privations]. 
La  bataille  ne  sera  livree  que  demain,  mais  la 
victoire  est  decidee  ce  soir.  Pierre  a  promis  ;  et  les 
Croises  se  fient  a  sa  parole,  comme  les  Israelites  se 
fiaient  a  celle  de  Moise  et  de  Josue/^ 

1  The  original  manuscript  of  this  devoir  is  still  extant.  It  fills  seven 
pages  of  very  neat  writing.  There  are  also  a  number  of  Miss  Bronte's 
French  exercise  books  with  M.  Heger's  corrections,  one  a  '  Lettre  d'un 
Pauvre  Peinlre  a  un  Grand  Seigneur,*  another  an  essay  on  '  William 
Wallace/  The  most  curious,  perhaps,  is  a  letter  in  simple  German, 
written  obviously  for  practice  during  her  second  sojourn  in  Brussels. 
It  is  clear  that  Charlotte  Bronte  was  not  an  enthusiast  for  the  German 
language  and  literature  after  the  manner  of  so  many  of  her  contempo- 
raries. There  are  no  indications  that  she  read  any  German  books 
in  the  later  years  when  selection  was  more  practicable.  Emily,  on  the 
other  hand,  must  have  become  a  good  German  scholar,  and  undoubt- 
edly read  much  of  HoJffmann  and  other  weird  German  writers.  The 
reference  in  the  letter  to  residence  with  '  a  lady  who  is  very  good  to 
me '  is  interesting  by  the  light  of  Charlotte  Bronte's  subsequent  judg- 
ment of  Madame  Heger  : — 

*  Bruxel,  5  Juin. 

*Meine  liebe  Freundinn,— Du  hast  ohne  Zweifel  gehort  dasz  ich 
nach  Belgium  wieder  gekehrt  bin.  Es  machte  mir  Schmerz  mein 
Vaterland  zu  verlassen,  aber,  wie  du  wolil  weiszt,  wenn  man  nicht 
reich  iszt,  kann  man  nicht  immer  zu  Haus  bleiben,  man  musz  in  die 
Welt  gehen  und  trachten  mit  Arbeitsamkeit  und  Erwerbsamkeit  zu 
verdienen  diese  Unabhangigkeit,  die  das  Gluck  ausgeschlagen  hat. 


1842 


EMILY'S  FRENCH  EXERCISE 


241 


As  a  companion  portrait  to  this  Emily  chose  to  depict 
Harold  on  the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Hastings.  It  appears  to 
me  that  her  devoir  is  superior  to  Charlotte's  in  power  and  in 
imagination,  and  fully  equal  to  it  in  language ;  and  that  this, 
in  both  cases,  considering  how  little  practical  knowledge 
of  French  they  had  when  they  arrived  at  Brussels  in  Feb- 
ruary, and  that  they  wrote  without  the  aid  of  dictionary  or 
grammar,  is  unusual  and  remarkable.  We  shall  see  the 
progress  Charlotte  had  made,  in  ease  and  grace  of  style,  a 
year  later. 

In  the  choice  of  subjects  left  to  her  selection  she  fre- 
quently took  characters  and  scenes  from  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, with  which  all  her  writings  show  that  she  was  espe- 
cially familiar.  The  picturesqueness  and  colour  (if  I  may 
so  express  it),  the  grandeur  and  breadth  of.  its  narrations, 
impressed  her  deeply.  To  use  M.  Heger's  expression, 
^elle  etait  nourrie  de  la  Bible.''  After  he  had  read  De  la 
Vigne's  poem  on  Joan  of  Arc,  she  chose  the  ^Vision  and 
Death  of  Moses  on  Mount  Nebo  ^  to  write  about ;  and,  in 
looking  over  this  devoir,  I  was  much  struck  with  one  or  two 
of  M.  Heger's  remarks.  After  describing,  in  a  quiet  and 
simple  manner,  the  circumstances  under  which  Moses  took 
leave  of  the  Israelites,  her  imagination  becomes  warmed,  and 

Oftmals,  wenu  man  von  seinen  Aeltern  entfernt  iszt,  bat  man  viel 
Kuramer  uiid  Leiden,  well  man  nicht  die  selbe  Gunst  und  das  selbe 
Vergnligen  iinter  Fremden  fioden  kann,  wie  in  der  einzigen  Faniilie  ; 
allein  ich  habe  das  grosze  Gliick,  bei  einer  Dame  die  mir  sehr  gut 
iszt,  zu  wohnen. 

*Sonntag  und  Montag  waren  zwei  Tage  Ferien.  An  Sonntag  bin 
ich  spazieren  geweseu,  mit  Fraulein  Hauze  und  drei  der  Schlilerin- 
nen  ;  wir  haben  auf  dem  Lande  gespeiszt,  und  des  Abends  sind  wir 
durch  die  grune  Allee  nach  Haus  gegangen.  Da  sahen  wir  viele  Wa- 
gen  und  eine  Menge  Herren  und  Damen,  sehr  geputz.  Montag  bin 
ich  nicht  ausgegangen,  denn  ich  hatte  den  Schnupfen  bekommen. 
Heute  iszt  es  wieder  Classe,  und,  weil  wir  alle  unsere  Beschaftiguugen 
anfangen  mussen,  so  habe  ich  nicht  viel  Zeit  dir  zu  schreibcn. 

'  Ich  bin  deine  Freundinn, 


242 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


she  launches  out  into  a  noble  strain,  depicting  the  glorious 
futurity  of  the  Chosen  People,  as,  looking  down  upon  the 
Promised  Land,  he  sees  their  prosperity  in  prophetic  vision. 
But,  before  reaching  the  middle  of  this  glowing  descrip- 
tion, she  interrupts  herself  to  discuss  for  a  moment  the 
doubts  that  have  been  thrown  on  the  miraculous  relations  of 
the  Old  Testament.  M.  Heger  remarks,  ^  When  you  are  writ- 
ing, place  your  argument  first  in  cool,  prosaic  language ; 
but  when  you  have  thrown  the  reins  on  the  neck  of  your 
imagination,  do  not  pull  her  up  to  reason.^  Again,  in  the 
vision  of  Moses,  he  sees  the  maidens  leading  forth  their 
flocks  to  the  wells  at  eventide,  and  they  are  described  as 
wearing  flowery  garlands.  Here  the  writer  is  reminded 
of  the  necessity  of  preserving  a  certain  verisimilitude : 
Moses  might  from  his  elevation  see  mountains  and  plains, 
groups  of  maidens  and  herds  of  cattle,  but  could  hardly 
perceive  the  details  of  dress,  or  the  ornaments  of  the  head. 

When  they  had  made  further  progress  M.  Heger  took 
up  a  more  advanced  plan,  that  of  synthetical  teaching.  He 
would  read  to  them  various  accounts  of  the  same  person  or 
event,  and  make  them  notice  the  points  of  agreement  and 
disagreement.  Where  they  were  different,  he  would  make 
them  seek  the  origin  of  that  difference  by  causing  them  to 
examine  well  into  the  character  and  position  of  each  sepa- 
rate writer,  and  how  they  would  be  likely  to  affect  his  con- 
ception of  truth.  For  instance,  take  Cromwell.  He  would 
read  Bossuet's  description  of  him  in  the  '  Oraison  Funebre 
de  la  Reine  d^Angleterre,^  and  show  how  in  this  he  was  con- 
sidered entirely  from  the  religious  point  of  view,  as  an  in- 
strument in  the  hands  of  God,  pre-ordained  to  His  work. 
Then  he  would  make  them  read  Guizot,  and  see  how,  in 
this  view,  Cromwell  was  endowed  with  the  utmost  power 
of  free-will,  but  governed  by  no  higher  motive  than  that  of 
expediency,  while  Carlyle  regarded  him  as  a  character  regu- 
lated by  a  strong  and  conscientious  desire  to  do  the  will  of 
the  Lord.  Then  he  would  desire  them  to  remember  that 
the  Royalist  and  Commonwealth  men  had  each  their  differ- 


1842        M.  HEGER'S  PLAN  OF  INSTRUCTION  343 


ent  opinions  of  the  great  Protector.  And  from  these  con- 
flicting characters  he  would  require  them  to  sift  and  collect 
the  elements  of  truths  and  try  to  unite  them  into  a  perfect 
whole. 

This  kind  of  exercise  delighted  Charlotte.  It  called  into 
play  her  powers  of  analysis,  which  were  extraordinary,  and 
she  very  soon  excelled  in  it. 

Wherever  the  Brontes  could  be  national  they  were  so, 
with  the  same  tenacity  of  attachment  which  made  them 
suffer  as  they  did  whenever  they  left  Haworth.  They  were 
Protestant  to  the  backbone  in  other  things  beside  their 
religion,  but  pre-eminently  so  in  that.  Touched  as  Char- 
lotte was  by  the  letter  of  St.  Ignatius  before  alluded  to,  she 
claimed  equal  self-devotion,  and  from  as  high  a  motive,  for 
some  of  the  missionaries  of  the  English  Church  sent  out  to 
toil  and  to  perish  on  the  poisonous  African  coast,  and  wrote 
as  an  -  imitation^  ^Lettre  d'un  Missionnaire,  Sierra-Leone, 
Afrique.' 

Something  of  her  feeling,  too,  appears  in  the  following 
letter : 

'Brussels:  1842. 

^  I  consider  it  doubtful  whether  I  shall  come  home  in 
September  or  not.  Madame  Ileger  has  made  a  proposal  for 
both  me  and  Emily  to  stay  another  half-year,  offering  to 
dismiss  her  English  master,  and  take  me  as  English  teacher; 
also  to  employ  Emily  some  part  of  each  day  in  teaching 
music  to  a  certain  number  of  the  pupils.  For  these  services 
we  are  to  be  allowed  to  continue  our  studies  in  French  and 
German,  and  to  have  board,  &c.,  without  paying  for  it;  no 
salaries,  however,  are  offered.  The  proposal  is  kind,  and 
in  a  great  selfish  city  like  Brussels,  and  a  great  selfish 
school,  containing  nearly  ninety  pupils  (boarders  and  day 
pupils  included),  implies  a  degree  of  interest  which  de- 
mands gratitude  in  return.  I  am  inclined  to  accept  it. 
What  think  you  ?  I  don^t  deny  I  sometimes  wish  to  be  in 
England,  or  that  I  have  brief  attacks  of  home-sickness;  but, 
on  the  whole,  I  have  borne  a  very  valiant  heart  so  far  ;  and 


it 


244  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


I  have  been  happy  in  Brussels^  because  I  have  always  been 
fully  occupied  with  the  employments  that  I  like.  Emily  is 
making  rapid  progress  in  French,  German,  music,  and 
drawing.  Monsieur  and  Madame  Heger  begin  to  recognise 
the  valuable  parts  of  her  character,  under  her  singularities. 

^If  the  national  character  of  the  Belgians  is  to  be  measured 
by  the  character  of  most  of  the  girls  in  this  school,  it  is  a 
character  singularly  cold,  selfish,  animal,  and  inferior. 
They  are  very  mutinous  and  difficult  for  the  teachers  to 
manage ;  and  their  principles  are  rotten  to  the  core.  We 
avoid  them,  which  is  not  difficult  to  do,  as  we  have  the 
brand  of  Protestantism  and  Anglicism  upon  us.  People 
talk  of  the  danger  which  Protestants  expose  themselves  to 
in  going  to  reside  in  Catholic  countries,  and  thereby  run- 
ning the  chance  of  changing  their  faith.  My  advice  to  all 
Protestants  who  are  tempted  to  do  anything  so  besotted  as 
to  turn  Catholics  is,  to  walk  over  the  sea  on  to  the  Conti- 
nent ;  to  attend  Mass  sedulously  for  a  time ;  to  note  well 
the  mummeries  thereof  ;  also  the  idiotic,  mercenary  aspect 
of  all  the  priests ;  and  then,  if  they  are  still  disposed  to  con- 
sider Papistry  in  any  other  light  than  a  most  feeble,  childish 
piece  of  humbug,  let  them  turn  Papists  at  once — that's  all. 
I  consider  Methodism,  Quakerism,  and  the  extremes  of 
High  and  Low  Churchism  foolish,  but  Roman  Catholicism 
beats  them  all.  At  the  same  time,  allow  me  to*  tell  you  that 
there  are  some  Catholics  who  are  as  good  as  any  Christians 
can  be  to  whom  the  Bible  is  a  sealed  book,  and  much  bet- 
ter than  many  Protestants.'  ^ 

When  the  Brontes  first  went  to  Brussels,  it  was  with  the 
intention  of  remaining  there  for  six  months,  or  until  the 
grandes  vacances  began  in  September.  The  duties  of  the 
school  were  then  suspended  for  six  weeks  or  two  months, 
and  it  seemed  a  desirable  period  for  their  return.  But  the 
proposal  mentioned  in  the  foregoing  letter  altered  their 


*  This  letter  was  written  to  Ellen  Nussey. 


1843 


HER  ENGLISH  FRIENDS  AT  BRUSSELS  245 


plans.  Besides,  they  were  happy  in  the  feeling  that  they 
were  making  progress  in  all  the  knowledge  they  had  so 
long  been  yearning  to  acquire.  They  were  happy,  too,  in 
possessing  friends  whose  society  had  been  for  years  con- 
genial to  them ;  and  in  occasional  meetings  with  these 
they  could  have  the  inexpressible  solace  to  residents  in  a 
foreign  country — and  peculiarly  such  to  the  Brontes — of 
taking  over  the  intelligence  received  from  their  respec- 
tive homes — referring  to  past,  or  planning  for  future  days. 
^Mary''  and  her  sister,  the  bright,  dancing,  laughing  Mar- 
tha, were  parlour  boarders  in  an  establishment  just  be- 
yond the  barriers  of  Brussels.  Again,  the  cousins  of  these 
friends  were  resident  in  the  town ;  and  at  their  house 
Charlotte  and  Emily  were  always  welcome,  though  their 
overpowering  shyness  prevented  their  more  valuable  quali- 
ties from  being  known,  and  generally  kept  them  silent. 
They  spent  their  weekly  holiday  with  this  family  i  for  many 
months ;  but  at  the  end  of  the  time  Emily  was  as  im- 
penetrable to  friendly  advances  as  at  the  begining  ;  while 
Charlotte  was  too  physically  weak  (as  ^  Mary '  has  expressed 
it)  to  ^gather  up  her  forces'  sufficiently  to  express  any 
difference  or  opposition  of  opinion,  and  had  consequently 
an  asserting  and  deferential  manner,  strangely  at  variance 
with  what  they  knew  of  her  remarkable  talents  and  decided 
character.  At  this  house  the  Taylors  and  the  Brontes 
could  look  forward  to  meeting  each  other  pretty  frequent- 
ly. There  was  another  English  family  where  Charlotte 
soon  became  a  welcome  guest,  and  where,  I  suspect,  she 
felt  herself  more  at  her  ease  than  either  at  Mrs.  Jenkins's 
or  the  friends  whom  I  have  first  mentioned. 

An  English  physician,  with  a  large  family  of  daughters, 
went  to  reside  at  Brussels,  for  the  sake  of  their  education. 
He  placed  them  at  Madame  Heger's  school  in  July  1842, 
not  a  month  before  the  beginning  of  the  grandes  vacances 

*  The  Dixons.  Miss  Mary  Dixon,  a  sister  of  the  late  Mr.  George 
Dixoii,  M.P.  for  Birmingham,  is  still  alive.  She  is  frequently  men- 
li(jned  in  Charlotte  Bronte's  letters. 


246  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


on  August  15.  In  order  to  make  the  most  of  their  time, 
and  become  accustomed  to  the  language,  these  English  sis- 
ters went  daily,  through  the  holidays,  to  the  pensionnat  in 
the  Rue  d'Isabelle.  Six  or  eight  boarders  remained,  be- 
sides the  Miss  Brontes.  They  were  there  during  the  whole 
time,  never  even  having  the  break  to  their  monotonous  life 
which  passing  an  occasional  day  with  a  friend  would  have 
afforded  them,  but  devoting  themselves  with  indefatigable 
diligence  to  the  different  studies  in  which  they  were  en- 
gaged. Their  position  in  the  school  appeared,  to  these 
newcomers,  analogous  to  what  is  often  called  that  of  a  par- 
lour boarder.  They  prepared  their  French,  drawing,  Ger- 
man, and  literature  for  their  various  masters  ;  and  to  these 
occupations  Emily  added  that  of  music,  in  which  she  was 
somewhat  of  a  proficient,  so  much  so  as  to  be  qualified  to 
give  instruction  in  it  to  the  three  younger  sisters  of  my 
informant. 

The  school  was  divided  into  three  classes.  In  the  first 
were  from  fifteen  to  twenty  pupils ;  in  the  second  sixty  was 
about  the  average  number,  all  foreigners,  excepting  the  two 
Brontes  and  one  other  ;^  in  the  third  there  were  from  twenty 

^  This  was  not  quite  the  case.  Miss  Bronte  had  five  Miss  Wheel. 
Wrights  as  companions  at  the  Heger  pensionnat,  and  a  Miss  Maria  Miller, 
who  was  probably  the  prototype  of  Ginevra  Fanshawe  in  Villette.  Dr. 
Wheelwright  and  his  family  lived  at  the  Hotel  Clusyenaar,  in  the  Rue 
Royale.  His  daughter  Lsetitia  became  a  firm  friend  of  Charlotte  Bronte, 
and  her  younger  sisters  received  instructions  in  music  from  Emily. 
Miss  Lsetitia  Wheelwright  and  three  of  her  sisters  are  still  living. 
Their  names  are  Lsetitia,  Elizabeth,  Emily,  Frances,  and  Sarah  Anne. 
Another  sister,  Julia,  died  in  Brussels  during  these  school  days.  The 
Wheelwrights  were  Mrs.  Gaskell's  only  guides  to  Charlotte  Bronte's 
school-life  in  Brussels,  apart  from  M.  Heger.  Mrs.  Gaskell  obtained 
much  of  the  information  contained  in  her  record  from  Laetitia  Wheel- 
wright, to  whom  she  wrote  several  letters  of  inquiry,  the  latest  bear- 
ing date  February  7,  1857,  and  being  written  from  Plymouth  Grove, 
Manchester.  This  letter,  which  is  in  my  possession,  is  interesting 
bibliographically.  *I  have  to-day  finished  my  Life  of  Miss  Bronte,' 
she  writes,  'and  next  week  we  set  out  for  Rome.'  She  thanks  Miss 
Wheelwright,  while  returning  her  the  letters  lent,  '  not  merely  for  the 


1842     ARRANGEMENTS  OF  THE  ^PENSIONNAT'  247 


to  thirty  pupils.  The  first  and  second  classes  occupied  a 
long  room,  divided  by  a  wooden  partition  ;  in  each  division 
were  four  long  ranges  of  desks ;  and  at  the  end  was  the 
estrade,  or  platform,  for  the  presiding  instructor.  On  the 
last  row,  in  the  quietest  corner,  sat  Charlotte  and  Emily, 
side  by  side,  so  deeply  absorbed  in  their  studies  as  to  be 
insensible  to  any  noise  or  movement  around  them.  The 
school  hours  were  from  nine  to  twelve  (the  luncheon  hour), 
when  the  boarders  and  half-boarders — perhaps  two-and- 
thirty  girls — went  to  the  refectoire  (a  room  with  two  long 
tables,  having  an  oil  lamp  suspended  over  each),  to  partake 
of  bread  and  fruit ;  the  externes,  or  morning  pupils,  who 
had  brought  their  own  refreshment  with  them,  adjourning 
to  eat  it  in  the  garden.  From  one  to  two  there  was  fancy 
work — a  pupil  reading  aloud  some  light  literature  in  each 
room  ;  from  two  to  four,  lessons  again.  At  four  the  ex- 
ternes left ;  and  the  remaining  girls  dined  in  the  refectoire, 
M.  and  Madame  Heger  presiding.  From  five  to  six  there 
was  recreation  ;  from  six  to  seven,  preparation  for  lessons ; 
and  after  that  succeeded  the  lecture  pieuse — Charlotte^s 
nightmare.  On  rare  occasions  M.  Heger  himself  would 
come  in,  and  substitute  a  book  of  a  different  and  more  in- 
teresting kind.  At  eight  there  was  a  slight  meal  of  water 
and  pistolets  (the  delicious  little  Brussels  rolls),  which  was 
immediately  followed  by  prayers,  and  then  to  bed. 

The  principal  bedroom  was  over  the  long  classe,  or  school- 
room. There  were  six  or  eight  narrow  beds  on  each  side  of 
the  apartment,  every  one  enveloped  in  its  white  draping 
curtain  ;  a  long  drawer,  beneath  each,  served  for  a  ward- 
robe, and  between  each  was  a  stand  for  ewer,  basin,  and 
looking-glass.  The  beds  of  the  two  Miss  Brontes  were  at 
the  extreme  end  of  the  room,  almost  as  private  and  retired 
as  if  they  had  been  in  a  separate  apartment. 

During  the  hours  of  recreation,  which  were  always  spent 

loan  of  them,  although  their  value  has  been  great,  but  for  the  kind 
readiness  with  which  you  all  (especially  you  and  your  mother)  met  my 
wishes  about  giving  me  information/ 


248 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


in  the  garden,  they  invariably  walked  together,  and  gener- 
ally kept  a  profound  silence  ;  Emily,  though  so  much  the 
taller,  leaning  on  her  sister.  Charlotte  would  always  an- 
swer when  spoken  to,  taking  the  lead  in  replying  to  any  re- 
mark addressed  to  both  ;  Emily  rarely  spoke  to  any  one. 
Charlotte^s  quiet,  gentle  manner  never  changed.  She  was 
never  seen  out  of  temper  for  a  moment ;  and  occasionally, 
when  she  herself  had  assumed  the  post  of  English  teacher, 
and  the  impertinence  or  inattention  of  her  pupils  was 
most  irritating,  a  slight  increase  of  colour,  a  momentary 
sparkling  of  the  eye,  and  more  decided  energy  of  manner, 
were  the  only  outward  tokens  she  gave  of  being  conscious 
of  the  annoyance  to  which  she  was  subjected.  But  this 
dignified  endurance  of  hers  subdued  her  pupils,  in  the 
long  run,  far  more  than  the  voluble  tirades  of  the  other 
mistresses.  My  informant  adds,  ^  The  effect  of  this  man- 
ner was  singular.  I  can  speak  from  personal  experience. 
I  was  at  that  time  high-spirited  and  impetuous,  not  re- 
specting the  French  mistresses ;  yet,  to  my  own  astonish- 
ment, at  one  word  from  her  I  was  perfectly  tractable ;  so 
much  so  that,  at  length,  M.  and  Madame  Heger  invariably 
preferred  all  their  wishes  to  me  through  her ;  the  other 
pupils  did  not,  perhaps,  love  her  as  I  did,  she  was  so  quiet 
and  silent ;  but  all  respected  her,^ 

AVith  the  exception  of  that  part  which  describes  Char- 
lotte^s  manner  as  English  teacher — an  office  which  she  did 
not  assume  for  some  months  later — all  this  description  of 
the  school  life  of  the  two  Brontes  refers  to  the  commence- 
ment of  the  new  scholastic  year  in  October  1842  ;  and  the 
extracts  I  have  given  convey  the  first  impression  which  the 
life  at  a  foreign  school,  and  the  position  of  the  two  Miss 
Brontes  therein,  made  upon  an  intelligent  English  girl  of 
sixteen.  I  will  make  a  quotation  from  '  Mary's '  letter  re- 
ferring to  this  time. 

^The  first  part  of  her  time  at  Brussels  was  not  uninter- 
esting. She  spoke  of  new  people  and  characters,  and  for- 
eign ways  of  the  pupils  and  teachers.    She  knew  the  hopes 


LIBRARY 
OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  of  ILLINOIS 


1842 


EXTRACT  FROM  'MARY'S'  LETTER  249 


and  prospects  of  the  teachers^  and  mentioned  one  who  was 
very  anxious  to  marry,  ^'^she  was  getting  so  old.''  She 
used  to  get  her  father  or  brother  (I  forget  which)  to  be 
the  bearer  of  letters  to  different  single  men,  who  she 
thought  might  be  persuaded  to  do  her  the  favour,  saying 
that  her  only  resource  was  to  become  a  sister  of  charity  if 
her  present  employment  failed,  and  that  she  hated  the 
idea.  Charlotte  naturally  looked  with  curiosity  to  people 
of  her  own  condition.    This  woman  almost  frightened  her. 

She  declares  there  is  nothing  she  can  turn  to,  and  laughs 
at  the  idea  of  delicacy — and  she  is  only  ten  years  older  than 
I  am  V  I  did  not  see  the  connection  till  she  said,  Well, 
Polly,  I  should  hate  being  a  sister  of  charity  ;  I  suppose 
that  would  shock  some  people,  but  I  should. I  thought 
she  would  have  as  much  feeling  as  a  nurse  as  most  people, 
and  more  than  some.  She  said  she  did  not  know  how  peo- 
ple could  bear  the  constant  pressure  of  misery,  and  never 
to  change  except  to  a  new  form  of  it.  It  would  be  impos- 
sible to  keep  one's  natural  feelings.  I  promised  her  a  bet- 
ter destiny  than  to  go  begging  any  one  to  marry  her,  or  to 
lose  her  natural  feelings  as  a  sister  of  charity.  She  said, 
^^My  youth  is  leaving  me;  I  can  never  do  better  than  I 
have  done,  and  I  have  done  nothing  yet."  At  such  times 
she  seemed  to  think  that  most  human  beings  were  destined 
by  the  pressure  of  worldly  interests  to  lose  one  faculty  and 
feeling  after  another  ^^till  they  went  dead  altogether.  I 
hope  I  shall  be  put  in  my  grave  as  soon  as  Fm  dead  ;  I 
don't  want  to  walk  about  so."  TIere  we  always  differed. 
I  thought  the  degradation  of  nature  she  feared  was  a  con- 
sequence of  poverty,  and  that  she  should  give  her  attention 
to  earning  money.  Sometimes  she  admitted  this,  but  could 
find  no  means  of  earning  money.  At  others  she  seemed 
afraid  of  letting  her  thoughts  dwell  on  the  subject,  saying 
it  brought  on  the  worst  palsy  of  all.  Indeed,  in  her  posi- 
tion, nothing  less  than  entire  constant  absorption  in  petty 
money  matters  could  have  scraped  together  a  provision. 

^  Of  course  artists  and  authors  stood  high  with  Charlotte, 


250 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


and  the  best  thing  after  their  works  would  have  been  their 
company.  She  used  very  inconsistently  to  rail  at  money 
and  money-getting,  and  then  wish  she  was  able  to  visit  all 
the  large  towns  in  Europe,  see  all  the  sights,  and  know  all 
the  celebrities.  This  was  her  notion  of  literary  fame — a 
passport  to  the  society  of  clever  people.  .  .  .  When  she 
had  become  acquainted  with  the  people  and  ways  at  Brus- 
sels her  life  became  monotonous,  and  she  fell  into  the  same 
hopeless  state  as  at  Miss  Wooler's,  though  in  a  less  degree. 
I  wrote  to  her,  urging  her  to  go  home  or  elsewhere ;  she 
had  got  what  she  wanted  (French),  and  there  was  at  least 
novelty  in  a  new  place,  if  no  improvement.  That  if  she 
sank  into  deeper  gloom  she  would  soon  not  have  energy  to 
go,  and  she  was  too  far  from  home  for  her  friends  to  hear 
of  her  condition  and  order  her  home  as  they  had  done  from 
Miss  Wooler's.  She  wrote  that  I  had  done  her  a  great  ser- 
vice, that  she  would  certainly  follow  my  advice,  and  was 
much  obliged  to  me.  I  have  often  wondered  at  this  letter. 
Though  she  patiently  tolerated  advice  she  could  always 
quietly  put  it  aside,  and  do  as  she  thought  fit.  More  than 
once  afterwards  she  mentioned  the  service  "  I  had  done 
her.  She  sent  me  lOZ.  to  New  Zealand,  on  hearing  some 
exaggerated  accounts  of  my  circumstances,  and  told  me 
she  hoped  it  would  come  in  seasonably ;  it  was  a  debt  she 
owed  me  ^^for  the  service  I  had  done  her.^^  I  should  think 
101.  was  a  quarter  of  her  income.  The  service  was 
mentioned  as  an  apology,  but  kindness  was  the  real  motive.^ 

The  first  break  in  this  life  of  regular  duties  and  employ- 
ments came  heavily  and  sadly.  Martha — pretty,  winning, 
mischievous,  tricksome  Martha — was  taken  ill  suddenly  at 
the  Chateau  de  Koekelberg.  Her  sister  tended  her  with 
devoted  love;  but  it  was  all  in  vain;  in  a  few  days  she 
died.  Charlotte^s  own  short  account  of  this  event  is  as 
follows : — 

^Martha  Taylor^s  illness  was  unknown  to  me  till  the  day 
before  she  died.    I  hastened  to  Koekelberg  the  next  morn- 


1842 


DEATH  OF  MARTHA  TAYLOR 


251 


ing — unconscious  that  she  was  iv:  great  danger — and  was 
told  that  it  was  finished.  She  had  died  in  the  night.  Mary 
was  taken  away  to  Bruxelles.  I  have  seen  Mary  frequently 
since.  She  is  in  no  ways  crushed  by  the  event;  but  while 
Martha  was  ill  she  was  to  her  more  than  a  mother — more 
than  a  sister :  watching,  nursing,  cherishing  her  so  ten- 
derly, so  unweariedly.  She  appears  calm  and  serious  now ; 
no  bursts  of  violent  emotion ;  no  exaggeration  of  distress. 
I  have  seen  Martha's  grave — the  place  where  her  ashes  lie 
in  a  foreign  country.'^ 

Who  that  has  read  ^ Shirley^  does  not  remember  the 
few  lines — perhaps  half  a  page — of  sad  recollection  ? 

^  He  has  no  idea  that  little  Jessy  will  die  young,  she  is 
so  gay,  and  chattering,  and  arch — original  even  now ;  pas- 
sionate when  provoked,  but  most  affectionate  if  caressed ; 
by  turns  gentle  and  rattling;  exacting  yet  generous;  fear- 
less .  .  yet  reliant  on  any  who  will  help  her.  Jessy,  with 
her  little  piquant  face,  engaging  prattle,  and  winning  ways, 
is  made  to  be  a  pet.  .  .  . 

'  Do  you  know  this  place  ?  No,  you  never  saw  it ;  but 
you  recognise  the  nature  of  these  trees,  this  foliage — the 
cypress,  the  willow,  the  yew.  Stone  crosses  like  these  are 
not  unfamiliar  to  you,  nor  are  these  dim  garlands  of  ever- 
lasting flowers.  Here  is  the  place ;  green  sod  and  a  grey 
marble  head-stone — Jessy  sleeps  below.  She  lived  through 
an  April  day;  much  loved  was  she,  much  loving.  She 
often,  in  her  brief  life,  shed  tears — she  had  frequent  sor- 
rows; she  smiled  between,  gladdening  whatever  saw  her. 
Her  death  was  tranquil  and  happy  in  Rose's  guardian  arms, 
for  Rose  had  been  her  stay  and  defence  through  many 

^  This  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  dated  Haworth,  Nov.  10,  1842,  con- 
cludes, 'Aunt,  Martha  Taylor,  and  Mr.  Weightman  are  now  all  gone  ; 
how  dreary  and  void  everything  seems  !  Mr.  Weightman's  illness 
was  exactly  what  Martha's  was ;  he  was  ill  the  same  length  of  time 
and  died  in  the  same  manner.  Aunt's  disease  was  internal  obstruc- 
tion ;  she  also  was  ill  a  fortnight.' 


252  LIFE  OF  QHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


trials ;  the  dying  and  the  watching  English  girls  were  at 
that  hour  alone  in  a  foreign  country,  and  the  soil  of  that 
country  gave  J essy  a  grave.  .  .  . 

'  But,  Jessy,  I  will  write  about  you  no  more.  This  is  an 
autumn  evening,  wet  and  wild.  There  is  only  one  cloud 
in  the  sky ;  but  it  curtains  it  from  pole  to  pole.  The  wind 
cannot  rest;  it  hurries  sobbing  over  hills  of  sullen  outline, 
colourless  with  twilight  and  mist.  Eain  had  beat  all  day 
on  that  church  tower'  (Haworth) :  ^it  rises  dark  from  the 
stony  enclosure  of  its  graveyard  :  the  nettles,  the  long  grass, 
and  the  tombs  all  drip  with  wet.  This  evening  reminds 
me  too  forcibly  of  another  evening  some  years  ago  :  a  howl- 
ing, rainy  autumn  evening  too — when  certain  who  had  that 
day  performed  a  pilgrimage  to  a  grave  new  made  in  a  her- 
etic cemetery,  sat^near  a  wood  fire  on  the  hearth  of  a  for- 
eign dwelling.  They  were  merry  and  social,  but  they  each 
knew  that  a  gap,  never  to  be  filled,  had  been  made  in  their 
circle.  They  knew  they  had  lost  something  whose  absence 
could  never  be  quite  atoned  for,  so  long  as  they  lived ;  and 
they  knew  that  heavy  falling  rain  was  soaking  into  the  wet 
earth  which  covered  their  lost  darling;  and  that  the  sad, 
sighing  gale  was  mourning  above  her  buried  head.  The 
fire  warmed  them ;  Life  and  Friendship  yet  blessed  them : 
but  Jessy  lay  cold,  coffined,  solitary — only  the  sod  screen- 
ing her  from  the  storm.' 

This  was  the  first  death  that  had  occurred  in  the  small 
circle  of  Charlotte's  immediate  and  intimate  friends  since 
the  loss  of  her  two  sisters  long  ago.  She  was  still  in  the 
midst  of  her  deep  sympathy  with  ^  Mary,'  when  word 
came  from  home  that  her  aunt.  Miss  Branwell,  was  ail- 
ing—  was  very  ill.  Emily  and  Charlotte  immediately 
resolved  to  go  home  straight,  and  hastily  packed  up  for 
England,  doubtful  whether  they  should  ever  return  to 
Brnssels  or  not,  leaving  all  their  relations  with  M.  and 
Madame  Heger,  and  the  pensioiinat,  uprooted,  and  un- 
certain of  any  future  existence.     Even  before  their  de- 


DEATH  OF  MISS  BRANWELL 


253 


parture,  on  the  morning  after  they  received  the  first  intel- 
ligence of  illness — when  they  were  on  the  very  point  of 
starting — came  a  second  letter,  telling  them  of  their  aunt^s 
death.  It  could  not  hasten  their  movements,  for  every 
arrangement  had  been  made  for  speed.  They  sailed  from 
Antwerp  ;  they  travelled  night  and  day,  and  got  home  on 
a  Tuesday  morning.  The  funeral  and  all  was  over,  and  Mr. 
Bronte  and  Anne  were  sitting  together,  in  quiet  grief  for 
the  loss  of  one  who  had  done  her  part  well  in  their  house- 
hold for  nearly  twenty  years,  and  earned  the  regard  and 
respect  of  many  who  never  knew  how  much  they  would 
miss  her  till  she  was  gone.  The  small  property  which  she 
had  accumulated,  by  dint  of  personal  frugality  and  self- 
denial,  was  bequeathed  to  her  nieces.  Branwell,  her  dar- 
ling, was  to  have  had  his  share ;  but  his  reckless  expenditure 
had  distressed  the  good  old  lady,  and  his  name  was  omitted 
in  her  will.^ 

When  the  first  shock  was  over  the  three  sisters  began  to 
enjoy  the  full  relish  of  meeting  again,  after  the  longest 
separation  they  had  had  in  their  lives.  They  had  much 
to  tell  of  the  past  and  much  to  settle  for  the  future.  Anne 
had  been  for  some  little  time  in  a  situation,  to  which  she 
was  to  return  at  the  end  of  the  Christmas  holidays.  For 
another  year  or  so  they  were  again  to  be  all  three  apart ; 
and,  after  that,  the  happy  vision  of  being  together  and 
opening  a  school  was  to  be  realised.  Of  course  they  did 
not  now  look  forward  to  settling  at  Burlington,  or  any 
other  place  which  would  take  them  away  from  their  father; 
but  the  small  sum  which  they  each  independently  possessed 
would  enable  them  to  effect  such  alterations  in  the  parson- 

^  The  statement  about  Branwell  is  scarcely  accurate.  From  the 
will,  which  was  proved  at  York,  December  28,  1842.  we  learn  that 
*  my  Japan  dressing-box  I  leave  to  my  nephew  Branwell  Bronte.' 
That  none  of  Miss  Branwell's  money  was  left  to  her  nephew  must 
have  been  due  solely  to  the  aunt's  wise  recognition  that  the  girls 
would  be  more  in  need  of  it.  The  money  was  divided  between  some 
of  her  female  relatives  at  Penzance  and  her  nieces  at  Haworth. 


254  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


age  house  at  Haworth  as  would  adapt  it  to  the  reception 
of  pupils.  Anne^s  plans  for  the  interval  were  fixed.  Em- 
ily quickly  decided  to  be  the  daughter  to  remain  at  home. 
About  Charlotte  there  was  much  deliberation  and  some 
discussion. 

Even  in  all  the  haste  of  their  sudden  departure  from 
Brussels  M.  Heger  had  found  time  to  write  a  letter  of 
sympathy  to  Mr.  Bronte  on  the  loss  which  he  had  just  sus- 
tained ;  a  letter  containing  such  a  graceful  appreciation 
of  the  daughters'  characters,  under  the  form  of  a  tribute 
of  respect  to  their  father,  that  I  should  have  been  tempted 
to  copy  it,  even  had  there  not  also  been  a  proposal  made  in 
it,  respecting  Charlotte,  which  deserves  a  place  in  the  rec- 
ord of  her  life. 

^Au  Reverend  Monsieur  Bronte  Pasteur  Evangelique, 

'  Samedi,  5  o^^^. 

^  Monsieur, —  Un  evenement  bien  triste  decide  mesde- 
moiselles  vos  filles  a  retourner  brusquement  en  Angleterre. 
Ce  depart  qui  nous  afflige  beaucoup  a  cependant  ma  com- 
plete approbation  ;  il  est  bien  naturel  qu'elles  cherchent  a 
vous  consoler  de  ce  que  le  ciel  vient  de  vous  oter,  en  se 
serrant  autour  de  vous,  pour  mieux  vous  faire  apprecier 
ce  que  le  ciel  vous  a  donne  et  ce  qu'il  vous  laisse  encore. 
J'espere  que  vous  me  pardonnerez,  monsieur,  de  profiter 
de  cette  circonstance  pour  vous  faire  parvenir  Texpression 
de  mon  respect ;  je  n'ai  pas  Thonneur  de  vous  connaltre 
personnellement,  et  cependant  j^eprouve  pour  votre  per- 
sonne  un  sentiment  de  sincere  veneration,  car  en  jugeant 
un  pere  de  famille  par  ses  enfants  on  ne  risque  pas  de  se 
tromper,  et  sous  se  rapport  Teducation  et  les  sentiments 
que  nous  avons  trouves  dans  mesdemoiselles  vos  filles  n'ont 
pu  que  nous  donner  une  tr^s  haute  idee  de  votre  merite  et 
de  votre  caractere.  Vous  apprendrez  sans  doute  avec  plaisir 
^ue  vos  enfants  ont  fait  du  progres  tres  remarquable  dans 
ifoutes  les  branches  de  Tenseignement,  et  que  ces  progres 


im     LETTER  OF  M.  HEGER  TO  MR.  BRONTfi  255 


sont  entierement  dlls  a  lenr  amour  pour  le  travail  et  a  leur 
perseverance  ;  nous  n'avons  eu  que  bien  pen  a  faire  avec  de 
pareilles  eleves  ;  leur  avancement  est  votre  oeuvre  bien  plus 
que  la  notre  ;  nous  n^avons  pas  eu  a  leur  apprendre  le  prix 
du  temps  et  de  Tinstruction,  elles  avaient  appris  tout  cela 
dans  la  maison  paternelle^  et  nous  n^avons  eu,  pour  notre 
part,  que  le  faible  merite  de  diriger  leurs  efforts  et  de 
fournir  un  aliment  convenable  a  la  louable  activite  que  vos 
filles  ont  puisee  dans  votre  exemple  et  dans  vos  legons. 
Puissent  les  eloges  merites  que  nous  donnons  a  vos  en- 
fants  vous  etre  de  quelque  consolation  dans  le  malheur 
qui  vous  afflige  ;  c^est  la  notre  espoir  en  vous  ecrivant, 
et  ce  sera,  pour  mesdemoiselles  Charlotte  et  Emily,  une 
douce  et  belle  recompense  de  leurs  travaux. 

*  En  perdant  nos  deux  cheres  eleves,  nous  ne  devons  pas 
vous  cacher  que  nous  eprouvons  a  la  fois  et  du  chagrin  et 
de  ^inquietude  ;  nous  sommes  affliges  parce  que  cette 
brusque  separation  vient  briser  Taffection  presque  paternelle 
que  nous  leur  avons  vouee,  et  notre  peine  s'augmente  a  la 
vue  de  tant  de  travaux  interrompus,  de  tant  de  choses 
bien  commencees,  et  qui  ne  demandent  que  quelque  temps 
encore  pour  etre  menees  k  bonne  fin.  Dans  un  an  chacune 
de  vos  demoiselles  eUt  ete  entierement  premunie  contre  les 
eventualites  de  Tavenir;  chacune  d^elles  acquerait  a  la  fois 
et  ^instruction  et  la  science  d^enseignement ;  Mile  Emily 
allait  apprendre  le  piano ;  recevoir  des  legons  du  meilleur 
professeur  que  nous  ayons  en  Belgique,  et  deja  elle  avait 
elle-meme  de  petites  eleves  ;  elle  perdait  done  a  la  fois  un 
reste  d^ignorance  et  un  reste  plus  genant  encore  de  timidite  ; 
Mile  Charlotte  commengait  adonner  des  legons  en  frangais, 
et  d'acquerir  cette  assurance,  cet  aplomb  si  necessaire  dans 
Tenseignement  :  encore  un  an  tout  au  plus  et  Toeuvre  etait 
achevee  et  bien  achevee.  Alors  nous  aurious  pu,  si  cela 
vous  etit  convenu,  offrir  a  mesdemoiselles  vos  filles  ou  du 
moins  a  Tune  des  deux  une  position  qui  etit  ete  dans  ses 
goiits,  et  qui  lui  etlt  donne  cette  douce  independance  s'l 
difficile  h  trouver  pour  une  jeune  personne.    Ce  n'est  pas, 


256 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


croyez-le  bien,  monsieur,  ce  n^est  pas  ici  pour  nous  une 
question  d'interet  personnel,  c^est  une  question  d^affection  ; 
vous  me  pardonnerez  si  nous  vous  parlous  de  vos  enfants, 
si  nous  nous  occupons  de  leur  avenir,  comme  si  elles 
faisaient  partiedenotre  famille  ;  leurs  qualites  personnelles, 
leur  bon  vouloir,  leur  zele  extreme  sont  les  seules  causes 
qui  nous  poussent  k  nous  hasarder  de  la  sorte.  Nous  savons, 
monsieur,  que  vous  p^serez  plus  mtirement  et  plus  sagement 
que  nous  la  consequence  qu'aurait  pour  Tavenir  une  inter- 
ruption complete  dans  les  etudes  de  vos  deux  fiUes  ;  vous 
deciderez  ce  qu'il  faut  faire,  et  vous  nous  pardonnerez  notre 
franchise,  si  vous  daignez  considerer  que  le  motif  qui  nous 
fait  agir  est  une  affection  bien  desinteressee  et  qui  s^affli- 
gerait  beaucoup  de  devoir  deja  se  resigner  a  n'etre  plus  utile 
k  vos  chers  enfants. 

^  Agreez,  je  vousprie,  monsieur,  Texpression  respectueuse 
demes  sentiments  de  haute  consideration.     0.  Heger/ 

There  was  so  much  truth,  as  well  as  so  much  kindness, 
in  this  letter — it  was  so  obvious  that  a  second  year  of  in- 
struction would  be  far  more  valuable  than  the  first — that 
there  was  no  long  hesitation  before  it  was  decided  that 
Charlotte  should  return  to  Brussels. 

Meanwhile  they  enjoyed  their  Christmas  all  together  in- 
expressibly. Branwell  was  with  them;  that  was  always  a 
pleasure  at  this  time  ;  whatever  might  be  his  faults,  or  even 
his  vices,  his  sisters  yet  held  him  up  as  their  family  hope,  as 
they  trusted  that  he  would  some  day  be  their  family  pride. 
They  blinded  themselves  to  the  magnitude  of  the  failings 
of  which  they  were  now  and  then  told,  by  persuading 
themselves  that  such  failings  were  common  to  all  men  of 
any  strength  of  character;  for,  till  sad  experience  taught 
them  better,  they  fell  into  the  usual  error  of  confounding 
strong  passions  with  strong  character. 

Charlotte's  friends  came  over  to  see  her,  and  she  re- 
turned the  visit.  Her  Brussels  life  must  have  seemed  like 
a  dream,  so  completely,  in  this  short  space  of  time,  did 


1842 


AT  HOME  AT  HAWORTH 


257 


she  fall  back  into  the  old  household  ways  ;  with  more  of 
household  independence  than  she  could  ever  have  had  dur- 
ing her  aunt's  lifetime.  Winter  though  it  was,  the  sisters 
took  their  accustomed  walks  on  the  snow-covered  moors  ; 
or  went  often  down  the  long  road  to  Keighley,  for  such 
books  as  had  been  added  to  the  library  there  during  their 
long  absence  from  England. 


CHAPTER  XII 


Towards  the  end  of  January  the  time  came  for  Charlotte 
to  return  to  Brussels.  Her  journey  thither  was  rather 
disastrous.  She  had  to  make  her  way  alone  ;  and  the  train 
from  Leeds  to  London,  which  should  have  reached  Eustoii 
Square  early  in  the  afternoon,  was  so  much  delayed  that  it 
did  not  get  in  till  ten  at  night.  She  had  intended  to  seek 
out  the  Chapter  Colfee- house,  where  she  had  stayed  before, 
and  which  would  have  been  near  the  place  where  the  steam- 
boats lay  ;  but  she  appears  to  have  been  frightened  by  the 
idea  of  arriving  at  an  hour  which,  to  Yorkshire  notions, 
was  so  late  and  unseemly ;  and  taking  a  cab,  therefore, 
at  the  station,  she  drove  straight  to  the  London  Bridge 
Wharf,  and  desired  a  waterman  to  row  her  to  the  Ostend 
packet,  which  was  to  sail  the  next  morning.  She  described 
to  me,  pretty  much  as  she  has  since  described  it  in  ^Vil- 
lette,^  her  sense  of  loneliness,  and  yet  her  strange  pleasure 
in  the  excitement  of  the  situation,  as  in  the  dead  of  that 
winter^s  night  she  went  swiftly  over  the  dark  river  to  the 
black  hull's  side,  and  was  at  first  refused  leave  to  ascend 
to  the  deck.  ^  No  passengers  might  sleep  on  board,'  they 
said,  with  some  appearance  of  disrespect.  She  looked  back 
to  the  lights  and  subdued  noises  of  London — that  ^  Mighty 
Heart'  in  which  she  had  no  place — and,  standing  up  in  the 
rocking  boat,  she  asked  to  speak  to  some  one  in  authority 
on  board  the  packet.  He  came,  and  her  quiet,  simple 
statement  of  her  wish,  and  her  reason  for  it,  quelled  the 
feeling  of  sneering  distrust  in  those  who  had  first  heard 
her  request ;  and  impressed  the  authority  so  favourably 
that  he  allowed  her  to  come  on  board,  and  take  possession 


1843 


RETURN  TO  BRUSSELS 


259 


of  a  berth.  The  next  morning  she  sailed  ;  and  at  seven  on 
Sunday  evening  she  reached  the  Rue  d'Isabelle  once  more, 
having  only  left  Haworth  on  Friday  morning  at  an  early  hour. 

Her  salary  was  161.  a  year ;  out  of  which  she  had  to  pay 
for  her  German  lessons,  for  which  she  was  charged  as  much 
(the  lessons  being  probably  rated  by  time)  as  when  Emily 
learnt  with  her  and  divided  the  expense,  viz.  ten  francs  a 
month.  By  Miss  Bronte's  own  desire  she  gave  her  English 
lessons  in  the  classe,  or  schoolroom,  without  the  supervision 
of  Madame  or  M.  Heger.  They  offered  to  be  present,  with 
a  view  to  maintain  order  among  the  unruly  Belgian  girls ; 
but  she  declined  this,  saying  that  she  would  rather  enforce 
discipline  by  her  own  manner  and  character  than  be  in- 
debted for  obedience  to  the  presence  of  a  gendarme.  She 
ruled  over  a  new  schoolroom,  which  had  been  built  on  the 
space  in  the  playground  adjoining  the  house.  Over  that 
First  Class  she  was  surveillante  at  all  hours;  and  hence- 
forward she  was  called  Mademoiselle  Charlotte  by  M. 
Heger's  orders.  She  continued  her  own  studies,  princi- 
pally attending  to  German  and  to  Literature  ;  and  every 
Sunday  she  went  alone  to  the  German  and  English  chapels. 
Her  walks  too  were  solitary,  and  principally  taken  in  the 
allee  def endue,  where  she  was  secure  from  intrusion.  This 
solitude  was  a  perilous  luxury  to  one  of  her  temperament, 
so  liable  as  she  was  to  morbid  and  acute  mental  suffering. 

On  March  G,  1843,  she  writes  thus  : — 

^  I  am  settled  by  this  time,  of  course.  I  am  not  too 
much  overloaded  with  occupation  ;  and  besides  teaching 
English  I  have  time  to  improve  myself  in  German.  I 
ought  to  consider  myself  well  off,  and  to  be  thankful  for 
my  good  fortunes.  I  hope  I  am  thankful  ;  and  if  I  could 
always  keep  up  my  spirits  and  never  feel  lonely,  or  long  for 
companionship,  or  friendship,  or  whatever  they  call  it,  I 
should  do  very  well.  As  I  told  you  before,  M.  and  Ma- 
dame Heger  are  the  only  two  persons  in  the  house  for 
whom  I  really  experience  regard  and  esteem,  and  of  course 
I  cannot  be  always  with  them,  nor  even  very  often.  They 


260  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


told  me^  when  I  first  returned,  that  I  was  to  consider  their 
sitting-room  my  sitting-room  also,  and  to  go  there  when- 
ever I  was  not  engaged  in  the  schoolroom.  This,  however, 
I  cannot  do.  In  the  daytime  it  is  a  public  room,  where 
music  masters  and  mistresses  are  constantly  passing  in  and 
out ;  and  in  the  evening  I  will  not  and  ought  not  to  in- 
trude on  M.  and  Madame  Heger  and  their  children.  Thus 
I  am  a  good  deal  by  myself,  out  of  school  hours;  but  that 
does  not  signify.  I  now  regularly  give  English  lessons  to 
M.  Heger  and  his  brother-in-law.  They  get  on  with  won- 
derful rapidity,  especially  the  first.  He  already  begins  to 
speak  English  very  decently.  If  you  could  see  and  hear 
the  efforts  I  make  to  teach  them  to  pronounce  like  English- 
men, and  their  unavailing  attempts  to  imitate,  you  would 
laugh  to  all  eternity. 

^The  Carnival  is  just  over,  and  we  have  entered  upon 
the  gloom  and  abstinence  of  Lent.  The  first  day  of  Lent 
we  had  coffee  without  milk  for  breakfast ;  vinegar  and 
vegetables,  with  a  very  little  salt  fish,  for  dinner ;  and  bread 
for  supper.  The  Carnival  was  nothing  but  masking  and 
mummery.  M.  Heger  took  me  and  one  of  the  pupils  into 
the  town  to  see  the  masks.  It  was  animating  to  see  the 
immense  crowds,  and  the  general  gaiety,  but  the  masks  were 
nothing.  I  have  boen  twice  to  the  D.s^^  (those  cousins  of 
^Mary^s^  of  whom  I  have  before  made  mention).  ^When 
she  leaves  Bruxelles  I  shall  have  nowhere  to  go  to.  I  have 
had  two  letters  from  Mary.  She  does  not  tell  me  she  has 
been  ill,  and  she  does  not  complain ;  but  her  letters  are  not 
the  letters  of  a  person  in  the  enjoyment  of  great  happiness. 
She  has  nobody  to  be  as  good  to  her  as  M.  Heger  is  to  me; 
to  lend  her  books ;  to  converse  with  her  sometimes,  &c. 

^  Good-bye.  When  I  say  so  it  seems  to  me  that  you  will 
hardly  hear  me;  all  the  waves  of  the  Channel  heaving  and 
roaring  between  must  deaden  the  sound. 

^  The  Dixons. 

2  This  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey  was  illustrated  by  a  humorous  pen-and- 
ink  sketch  of  Charlotte  Bronte  saying  '  Good-bye '  across  the  Channel. 


im    HER  SOLICITUDE  IN  THE  ^PENSIONNAT'  261 


From  the  tone  of  this  letter  it  may  easily  be  perceived 
that  the  Brussels  of  1843  was  a  different  place  from  that  of 
1842.  Then  she  had  Emily  for  a  daily  and  nightly  solace 
and  companion.  She  had  the  weekly  variety  of  a  visit  to 
the  family  of  the  D.s  ;  and  she  had  the  frequent  happiness 
of  seeing  ^Mary^  and  Martha.  Now  Emily  was  far  away 
in  Haworth — where  she  or  any  other  loved  one  might  die 
before  Charlotte^  with  her  utmost  speed,  could  reach  them, 
as  experience,  in  her  aunt^s  case,  had  taught  her.  The  D.s 
were  leaving  Brussels;  so,  henceforth,  her  weekly  holiday 
would  have  to  be  passed  in  the  Rue  d^Isabelle,  or  so  she 
thought.  ^Mary^  was  gone  off  on  her  own  independent 
course ;  Martha  alone  remained — still  and  quiet  for  ever,  in 
the  cemetery  beyond  the  Porte  de  Louvain.  The  weather, 
too,  for  the  first  few  weeks  after  Charlotte^s  return,  had 
been  piercingly  cold;  and  her  feeble  constitution  was  always 
painfully  sensitive  to  an  inclement  season.  Mere  bodily  pain, 
however  acute,  she  could  always  put  aside ;  but  too  often  ill- 
health  assailed  her  in  a  part  far  more  to  be  dreaded.  Her  de- 
pression of  spirits,  when  she  was  not  well,  was  pitiful  in  its 
extremity.  She  was  aware  that  it  was  constitutional,  and 
could  reason  about  it;  but  no  reasoning  prevented  her  suffer- 
ing mental  agony  while  the  bodily  cause  remained  in  force. 

The  Hegers  have  discovered,  since  the  publication  of 
'Villette,'  that  at  this  beginning  of  her  career  as  English 
teacher  in  their  school  the  conduct  of  her  pupils  was  often 
impertinent  and  mutinous  in  the  highest  degree.  But  of 
this  they  were  unaware  at  the  time,  as  she  had  declined 
their  presence  and  never  made  any  complaint.  Still  it 
must  have  been  a  depressing  thought  to  her  at  this  period 
that  her  joyous,  healthy,  obtuse  pupils  were  so  little  answer- 
able to  the  powers  she  could  bring  to  bear  upon  them  ;  and 
though,  from  their  own  testimony,  her  patience,  firmness, 
and  resolution  at  length  obtained  their  just  reward,  yet 
with  one  so  weak  in  health  and  spirits  the  reaction  after 
such  struggles  as  she  frequently  had  with  her  pupils  must 
have  been  very  sad  and  painful. 


262 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


She  thus  writes  to  her  friend  Ellen : — 

'  April  1843. 

^  Is  there  any  talk  of  your  coming  to  Brussels  ?  During 
the  bitter  cold  weather  we  had  through  February,  and  the 
principal  part  of  March,  I  did  not  regret  that  you  had  not 
accompanied  me.  If  I  had  seen  you  shivering  as  I  shivered 
myself,  if  I  had  seen  your  hands  and  feet  as  red  and  swelled 
as  mine  were,  my  discomfort  would  just  have  been  doubled. 
I  can  do  very  well  under  this  sort  of  thing ;  it  does  not  fret 
me ;  it  only  makes  me  numb  and  silent ;  but  if  you  were  to 
pass  a  winter  in  Belgium  you  would  be  ill.  However,  more 
genial  weather  is  coming  now,  and  I  wish  you  were  here. 
Yet  I  never  have  pressed  you,  and  never  would  press  you 
too  warmly  to  come.  There  are  privations  and  humiliations 
to  submit  to  ;  there  is  monotony  and  uniformity  of  life ;  and, 
above  all,  there  is  a  constant  sense  of  solitude  in  the  midst 
of  numbers.  The  Protestant,  the  foreigner,  is  a  solitary 
being,  whether  as  teacher  or  pupil.  I  do  not  say  this  by 
way  of  complaining  of  my  own  lot ;  for  though  I  acknowl- 
edge that  there  are  certain  disadvantages  in  my  present 
position,  what  position  on  earth  is  without  them?  And, 
whenever  I  turn  back  to  compare  what  I  am  with  what  I 
was — my  place  here  with  my  place  at  Mrs.  (Sidgwick^s  or 
Mrs.  Whitens) — I  am  thankful.  There  was  an  observation  in 
your  last  letter  which  excited,  for  a  moment,  my  wrath.  At 
first  I  thought  it  would  be  folly  to  reply  to  it,  and  I  would 
let  it  die.  Afterwards  I  determined  to  give  one  answer, 
once  for  all.  Three  or  four  people,'^  it  seems,  have  the 
idea  that  the  future  epoicx  of  Mademoiselle  Bronte  is  on  the 
Continent. These  people  are  wiser  than  I  am.  They  could 
not  believe  that  I  crossed  the  sea  merely  to  return  as  teacher 
to  Madame  Heger^s.  I  must  have  some  more  powerful 
motive  than  respect  for  my  master  and  mistress,  gratitude 
for  their  kindness,  &c.,  to  induce  me  to  refuse  a  salary  of 
50Z.  in  England  and  accept  one  of  161.  in  Belgium.  I  must, 
forsooth,  have  some  remote  hope  of  entrapping  a  husband 
somehow,  or  somewhere.    If  these  charitable  people  knew 


HER  LETTERS  FROM  BRUSSELS 


263 


the  total  seclusion  of  the  life  I  lead — that  I  never  exchange 
a  word  with  any  other  man  than  Monsieur  Heger,  and  sel- 
dom indeed  with  him — they  would,  perhaps,  cease  to  sup- 
pose that  any  such  chimerical  and  groundless  notion  had 
influenced  my  proceedings.  Have  I  said  enough  to  clear 
myself  of  so  silly  an  imputation  ?  Not  that  it  is  a  crime  to 
marry,  or  a  crime  to  wish  to  be  married ;  but  it  is  an  im- 
becility, which  I  reject  with  contempt,  for  women,  who 
have  neither  fortune  nor  beauty,  to  make  marriage  the  prin- 
cipal object  of  their  wishes  and  hopes,  and  the  aim  of  all 
their  actions  ;  not  to  be  able  to  convince  themselves  that 
they  are  unattractive,  and  that  they  had  better  be  quiet, 
and  think  of  other  things  than  wedlock/ 

The  following  is  an  extract,  from  one  of  the  few  letters 
which  have  been  preserved,  of  her  correspondence  with  her 
sister  Emily  — 

*  Here  is  the  actual  letter.  The  original,  from  Charlotte  Bronte  and 
her  Circle,  is  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  A.  B.  Nicholls  : — 

*  Dear  E.  J., — The  reason  of  the  unconscionable  demand  for  money 
is  explained  in  my  letter  to  papa.  Would  you  believe  it,  Mile.  Miihl 
demands  as  much  for  one  pupil  as  for  two,  namely,  ten  francs  per 
month.  This,  with  the  five  francs  per  month  to  the  hlanchisseuse, 
makes  havoc  in  16^.  per  annum.  You  will  perceive  I  have  begun 
again  to  take  German  lessons.  Things  wag  on  much  as  usual  here. 
Only  Mile.  Blanche  and  Mile.  Hausseare  at  present  on  a  system  of  war 
without  quarter.  They  hate  each  other  like  two  cats.  Mile.  Blanche 
frightens  Mile.  Hausse  by  her  white  passions  (for  they  quarrel  venom- 
ously).   Mile.  Hausse  complains  that  when  Mile.  Blanche  is  in  fury 

elle  na  pas  de  Uvres."  I  find  also  that  Mile.  Sophie  dislikes  Mile. 
Blanche  extremely.  She  says  she  is  heartless,  insincere,  and  vindictive, 
which  epithets,  I  assure  you,  are  richly  deserved.  Also  I  find  she  is 
the  regular  spy  of  Mme.  Heger,  to  whom  she  reports  everything. 
Also  she  invents— which  I  should  not  have  thought.  I  have  now  the 
entire  charge  of  the  Englisli  lessons.  I  have  given  two  lessons  to  the 
first  class.  Hortense  Jannoy  was  a  picture  on  these  occasions ;  her 
face  was  black  as  a  blue-piled  thunder-loft,"  and  her  two  ears  were 
red  as  raw  beef.  To  all  questions  asked  her  reply  was,  Je  ne  sais 
pas/'  It  is  a  pity  but  her  friends  could  meet  with  a  person  qualified 
to  cast  out  a  devil.    I  am  richly  off  for  companionship  in  these  parts. 


364 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


'  May  29,  1843. 

'I  get  on  here  from  day  to  day  in  a  Robinson-Criisoe-like 
sort  of  way,  very  lonely,  but  that  does  not  signify.  In  other 
respects  I  have  nothing  substantial  to  complain  of,  nor  is 
this  a  cause  for  complaint.  I  hope  you  are  well.  Walk  out 
often  on  the  moors.  My  love  to  Tabby.  I  hope  she  keeps 
well.^ 

And  about  this  time  she  wrote  to  her  father — 

'  June  2,  1843. 

^  I  was  very  glad  to  hear  from  home.  I  had  begun  to 
get  low-spirited  at  not  receiving  any  news,  and  to  entertain 
indefinite  fears  that  something  was  wrong.  You  do  not  say 
anything  about  your  own  health,  but  I  hope  you  are  well, 
and  Emily  also.  I  am  afraid  she  will  have  a  good  deal  of 
hard  work  to  do  now  that  Hannah^  (a  servant  girl  who  had 
been  assisting  Tabby)  ^is  gone.    I  am  exceedingly  glad  to 

Of  late  days  M.  and  Mme.  Heger  rarely  speak  to  me,  and  I  really  don't 
pretend  to  care  a  fig  for  anybody  else  in  the  establishment.  You  are 
not  to  suppose  by  that  expression  that  I  am  under  the  influence  of 
warm  affection  for  Mme.  Heger.  I  am  convinced  that  she  does  not 
like  me— why  I  can't  tell,  nor  do  I  think  she  herself  has  any  definite 
reason  for  the  aversion  ;  but,  for  one  thing,  she  cannot  comprehend 
why  I  do  not  make  intimate  friends  of  Mesdames  Blanche,  Sophie, 
and  Hausse.  M.  Heger  is  wondrously  influenced  by  Madame,  and  I 
should  not  wonder  if  he  disapproves  very  much  of  my  unamiable 
want  of  sociability.  He  has  already  given  me  a  brief  lecture  on  uni- 
versal hienmillance,  and,  perceiving  that  I  don't  improve  in  conse- 
quence, I  fancy  he  has  taken  to  considering  me  as  a  person  to  be  let 
alone,  left  to  the  error  of  her  ways  ;  and  consequently  he  has  in  a  great 
measure  withdrawn  the  light  of  his  countenance,  and  I  get  on  from  day 
to  day  in  a  Robinson-Crusoe-like  condition— very  lonely.  That  does 
not  signify.  In  other  respects  I  have  nothing  substantial  to  complain 
of,  nor  is  even  this  a  cause  for  complaint.  Except  the  loss  of  M.  Heger's 
goodwill  (if  I  have  lost  it)  I  care  for  none  of  'em.  I  hope  you  are  well 
and  hearty.  Walk  out  often  on  the  moors.  Sorry  am  I  to  hear  that 
Hannah  is  gone,  and  that  she  has  left  you  burdened  with  the  charge  of 
the  little  girl,  her  sister.  I  hope  Tabby  will  continue  to  stay  with  you 
—give  my  love  to  her.  Regards  to  the  fighting  gentry,  and  to  old 
asthma.— Your  C.  B.' 


1843     DEVOIR  *SUR  LA  MORT  DE  NAPOLEON'  265 


hear  that  you  still  keep  Tabby  ^  (considerably  upwards  of 
seventy).  '  It  is  an  act  of  great  charity  to  her,  and  I  do 
not  think  it  will  be  unrewarded,  for  she  is  very  faithful, 
and  will  always  serve  you,  when  she  has  occasion,  to  the 
best  of  her  abilities ;  besides,  she  will  be  company  for  Emily, 
who,  without  her,  would  be  very  lonely.' 

I  gave  a  devoir,  written  after  she  had  been  four  months 
under  M.  Heger's  tuition.  I  will  now  copy  out  another, 
written  nearly  a  year  later,  during  which  the  progress  made 
appears  to  me  very  great. 

'  31  mai  1843. 

^SUR  LA  MoRT  DE  NAPOLEON. 

^  Napoleon  naquit  en  Corse  et  mourut  a  Sainte-Helene. 
Entre  ces  deux  iles  rien  qu'un  vaste  et  brtilant  desert  et 
i'ocean  immense.  II  naquit  fils  d'un  simple  gentilhomme, 
et  mourut  empereur,  mais  sans  couronne  et  dans  les  fers. 
Entre  son  berceau  et  sa  tombe  qu^y  a-t-il  ?  la  carriere  d^'un 
soldat  parvenu,  des  champs  de  bataille,  une  mer  de  sang, 
un  trone,  puis  du  sang  encore,  et  des  fers.  Sa  vie,  c'est  Tarc- 
en-ciel;  les  deux  points  extremes  touchent  la  terre,  le  comble 
lumineux  mesure  les  cieux.  Sur  Napoleon  au  berceau  une 
mere  brillait ;  dans  la  maison  paternelle  il  avait  des  freres 
et  des  soeurs ;  plus  tard  dans  son  palais  il  eut  une  femme 
qui  Taimait.  Mais  sur  son  lit  de  mort  Napoleon  est  seul ; 
plus  de  mere,  ni  de  frfere,  ni  de  soeur,  ni  de  femme,  ni 
d'enfant  !  !  D'autres  ont  dit  et  rediront  ses  exploits,  moi, 
je  m'arrete  a  contempler  Tabandonnement  de  sa  derni^re 
heure. 

^  II  est  la,  exile  et  captif,  enchatne  sur  un  ecueil.  Nouveau 
Promethee,  il  subit  le  chatiment  de  son  orgueil !  Promebhee 
avait  voulu  etre  Dieu  et  Createur  ;  il  deroba  le  feu  du  Ciel 
pour  animer  le  corps  qu'il  avait  forme.  Et  lui,  Buonaparte, 
il  a  voulu  creer,  non  pas  un  homme,  mais  un  empire,  et  pour 
donner  une  existence,  une  ame,  a  son  oeuvre  gigiintesque  il 
n'a  pas  hesite  a  arracher  la  vie  a  des  nations  entieres.  Jupiter 


266 


LIFE  OF  (CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


indigne  de  Timpiete  de  Promethee,  le  riva  vivant  a  la  cime 
dn  Caucase.  Ainsi,  pour  punir  Fambition  rapace  de  Buona- 
parte, la  Providence  Fa  enchatne,  jusqu^a  ce  que  la  mort 
s^en  suivit,  sur  un  roc  isole  de  FAtlantique.  Peut-etre  Ik 
aussi  a-t-il  senti  lui  fouillant  le  flanc  cet  insatiable  vautour 
dont  parle  la  fable,  peut-etre  a-t-il  souffert  aussi  cette  soif 
du  coeur,  cette  faim  de  Fame,  qui  torturent  Fexile,  loin  de 
sa  famille  et  de  sa  patrie.  Mais  parler  ainsi  n^est-ce  pas 
attribuer  gratuitement  a  Napoleon  une  humaine  faiblesse 
qu^'il  n'eprouva  jamais  ?  Quand  done  s^est-il  laisse  en- 
chamer  par  un  lien  d'affection  ?  Sans  doute  d'autres  con- 
querants  ont  hesite  dans  leur  carriere  de  gloire,  arretes  par 
un  obstacle  d^amour  ou  d^arnitie,  retenus  par  la  main  d^une 
f  emme,  rappeles  par  la  voix  d^un  ami — lui,  jamais  !  II  n^eut 
pas  besoin,  comme  Ulysse,  de  se  Her  au  mat  du  navire,  ni 
de  se  boucher  les  oreilles  avec  de  la  cire ;  il  ne  redoutait 
pas  le  chant  des  Sirenes — il  le  dedaignait ;  il  se  fit  marbre 
et  fer  pour  executer  ses  grands  projets.  Napoleon  ne  se 
regardait  pas  comme  un  homme,  mais  comme  Fincarnation 
d'mi  peuple.  II  n^aimait  pas  ;  il  ne  considerait  ses  amis  et 
ses  proches  que  comme  des  imstruments  auxquels  il  tint, 
tant  quails  furent  utiles,  et  qu'il  jeta  cote  quand  ils  ces- 
serent  de  Fetre.  Qu^on  ne  se  permette  done  pas  d^approcher 
du  sepulcre  du  Corse  avec  sentiments  de  pitie,  ou  de  souil- 
ler  de  larmes  la  pierre  qui  couvre  ses  restes,  son  ame  re- 
pudierait  tout  cela.  On  a  dit,  je  le  sais,  qu^elle  f ut  crenelle 
la  main  qui  le  separa  de  sa  femme  et  de  son  enfant.  Non, 
c'etait  une  main  qui,  comme  la  sienne,  ne  tremblait  ni  de 
passion  ni  de  crainte,  c^etait  la  main  d^un  homme  froid, 
convaincu,  qui  avait  su  deviner  Buonaparte;  et  voici  ce 
que  disait  cet  homme  que  la  defaite  n'a  pu  humilier,  ni  la 
victoire  enorgueillir.  Marie-Louise  n^est  pas  la  femme 
de  Napoleon ;  c'est  la  France  que  Napoleon  a  epousee ; 
c^est  la  France  qu^il  aime,  leur  union  enfante  la  perte  de 
FEurope ;  voila  le  divorce  que  je  veux — voiU  Funion  qu'il 
faut  bristr." 

^  La  voix  des  timides  et  des  traitres  protesta  centre  cette 


1843     DEVOIR  '  SUR  LA  MORT  DE  NAPOLEON  267 


sentence.  ^^C'est  abuser  de  droit  de  la  victoire  !  C'est 
fouler  aux  pieds  le  vaincu  !  Que  TAngieterre  se  montre 
clemente,  qu^elle  ouvre  ses  bras  pour  recevoir  comme  bote 
son  ennemi  desarme/'  L^Angleterre  aurait  peut-etre  ecoute 
ce  conseil,  car  partout  et  toujours  il  y  a  des  ames  faibles 
et  timorees  bientot  seduites  par  la  flatterie  ou  effrayees  par 
le  reproche.  Mais  la  Providence  permit  qu^un  homme  se 
trouvat  qui  n^a  jamais  su  ce  que  c^est  que  la  crainte  ;  qui 
aima  sa  patrie  mieux  que  sa  renommee ;  impenetrable  de- 
vant  les  menaces^  inaccessible  aux  louanges,  il  se  presenta 
devant  le  conseil  de  la  nation,  et  levant  son  front  tranquille 
en  haut,  il  osa  dire  :  Que  la  trahison  se  taise !  car  c^est 
trahir  que  de  conseiller  de  temporiser  avec  Buonaparte. 
Moi  je  sais  ce  que  sont  ces  guerres  dont  TEurope  saigne 
encore,  comme  une  victime  sous  le  couteau  du  boucher.  II 
faut  en  finir  avec  Napoleon  Buonaparte.  Vous  vous  effrayez 
k  tort  d'un  mot  si  dur !  Je  n^ai  pas  de  magnanimite,  dit- 
on?  Soit !  que  m'importe  ce  qu'on  dit  de  moi  ?  Je  n^ai 
pas  ici  a  me  faire  une  reputation  de  heros  magnanime, 
mais  k  guerir,  si  la  cure  est  possible,  TEurope  qui  se  meurt, 
epuisee  de  ressources  et  de  sang,  TEurope  dont  vous  ne- 
gligez  les  vrais  interets,  preoccupes  que  vous  etes  d'une  vaine 
renommee  de  clemence.  Vous  etes  faibles !  Eh  bien  !  je 
viens  vous  aider.  Envoyez  Buonaparte  a  Sainte-Heldne ! 
n'hesitez  pas,  ne  cherchez  pas  un  autre  endroit ;  c'est  le 
seul  convenable.  Je  vous  le  dis,  j^ai  reflechi  pour  vous; 
c'est  la  qu^il  doit  etre,  et  non  pas  ailleurs.  Quant  a  Na- 
poleon, homme,  soldat,  je  n'ai  rien  centre  lui ;  c'est  un  lion 
royal,  aupres  de  qui  vous  n'etes  que  des  chacals.  Mais  Na- 
poleon empereur,  c^est  autre  chose,  je  Textirperai  du  sol 
de  TEurope."^  Et  celui  qui  parla  ainsi  toujours  sut  garder 
sa  promesse,  celle-la  comme  toutes  les  autres.  Je  Tai  dit, 
et  je  le  repete,  cet  homme  est  Tegal  de  Napoleon  par  le 
genie ;  comme  trempe  de  caractere,  comme  droiture,  comme 
Elevation  de  pensee  et  de  but,  il  est  d^une  tout  autre  espece. 
Napoleon  Buonaparte  etait  avide  de  renommee  et  de  gloire  : 
Arthur  Wellesley  ne  se  soucie  ni  de  Tune  ni  de  Fautre ; 


268 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


ropinion  publiqne.  la  popularite,  etaient  clioses  de  grand 
valeur  aux  yenx  de  Napoleon ;  pour  Wellington  Topinion 
publique  est  une  rumeur,  nn  rien  que  le  souffle  de  son  in- 
flexible volonte  fait  disparaitre  comme  une  bulle  de  savon. 
Napoleon  flattait  le  peuple ;  Wellington  le  brusque ;  Tun 
cherchait  les  applaudissements,  Fautre  ne  se  soucie  que  du 
temoignage  de  sa  conscience ;  quand  elle  approuve,  c'est 
assez  ;  tout  autre  louange  Fobsede.  Aussi  ce  peuple,  qui 
adorait  Buonaparte,  s^'irritait,  s^insurgeait  centre  la  morgue 
de  Wellington  ;  parfois  il  lui  temoigna  sa  colere  et  sa  liaine 
par  des  grognements,  par  des  hurlements  de  betes  fauves ; 
et  alors,  avec  une  impassibilite  de  senateur  remain,  le  mo- 
derne  Coriolan  toisait  du  regard  Femeute  furieuse ;  il  croi- 
sait  ses  bras  nerveux  sur  sa  large  poitrine,  et  seul,  debput 
sur  son  seuil,  il  attendait,  il  bravait  cette  tempete  popu- 
laire  dont  les  flots  venaient  mourir  a  quelques  pas  de  lui  : 
et  quand  la  foule,  honteuse  de  sa  rebellion,  venait  lecher 
les  pieds  du  maitre,  le  hantain  patricien  meprisait  Fhom- 
mage  d'aujourd'hui  comme  la  haine  d^hier,  et  dans  les  rues 
de  Londres,  et  devant  son  palais  ducal  d^Apsley,  il  repoussait 
d^un  genre  plein  de  froid  dedain  Fincommode  empresse- 
ment  du  peuple  enthousiaste.  Oette  fierte  neanmoins 
n'excluait  pas  en  lui  une  rare  modestie ;  partout  il  se  sou- 
strait  a  Feloge ;  se  derobe  au  panegyrique ;  jamais  il  ne 
parle  de  ses  exploits,  et  jamais  il  ne  souffre  qu'un  autre  lui 
en  parle  en  sa  presence.  Son  caractere  egale  en  grandeur 
et  surpasse  en  verite  celui  de  tout  autre  heros  ancien  ou 
moderne.  La  gloire  de  Napoleon  cr6t  en  une  nuit,  comme 
la  vigne  de  Jonas,  et  il  suffit  d'un  jour  pour  la  fletrir ;  la 
gloire  de  Wellington  est  comme  les  vieux  chenes  qui  ombrag- 
ent  le  chateau  de  ses  peres  sur  les  rives  du  Shannon  ;  le 
chene  croit  lentement ;  il  lui  faut  du  temps  pour  pousser 
vers  le  ciel  ses  branches  noueuses,  et  pour  enfoncer  dans  le 
sol  ces  racines  profondes  qui  s^enchevetrent  dans  les  fonde- 
ments  solides  de  la  terre  ;  mais  alors,  Farbre  seculaire,  in- 
ebranlable  comme  le  roc  il  a  sa  base,  brave  et  la  faux  du 
temps  et  Feffort  des  vents  et  des  tempetes.   II  faudra  pent- 


1843  WELLINGTON  AND  BUONAPARTE 


269 


etre  nu  siecle  a  TAiigleterre  poor  qu'elle  connaisse  la  valeur 
de  son  lieros.  Dans  un  siecle  TEurope  entiere  saura  com- 
bien  Wellington  a  des  droits  a  sa  reconnaissance/ 

How  often  in  writing  this  paper  ^  in  a  strange  land  ^  must 
Miss  Bronte  have  thought  of  the  old  childish  disputes  in 
the  kitchen  of  Haworth  Parsonage  touching  the  respective 
merits  of  Wellington  and  Buonaparte !  Although  the  title 
given  to  her  devoir  is  ^On  the  Death  of  Napoleon/  she  seems 
yet  to  have  considered  it  a  point  of  honour  rather  to  sing 
praises  to  an  English  hero  than  to  dwell  on  the  character 
of  a  foreigner^  placed  as  she  was  among  those  who  cared 
little  either  for  England  or  for  Wellington.  She  now  felt 
that  she  had  made  great  progress  towards  obtaining  pro- 
ficiency in  the  French  language,  which  had  been  her  main 
object  in  coming  to  Brussels.  But  to  the  zealous  learner 
^Alps  on  Alps  arise. ^  NTo  sooner  is  one  difficulty  surmounted 
than  some  other  desirable  attainment  appears,  and  must  be 
laboured  after.  A  knowledge  of  German  now  became  her 
object;  and  she  resolved  to  compel  herself  to  remain  in 
Brussels  till  that  was  gained.  The  strong  yearning  to  go 
home  came  upon  her;  the  stronger  self-denying  will  for- 
bade. There  was  a  great  internal  struggle ;  every  fibre  of 
her  heart  quivered  in  the  strain  to  master  her  will ;  and, 
when  she  conquered  herself,  she  remained,  not  like  a  vic- 
tor calm  and  supreme  on  the  throne,  but  like  a  panting, 
torn,  and  suffering  victim.  Her  nerves  and  her  spirits  gave 
way.    Her  health  became  much  shaken. 

*  Brussels:  August  1,  1843. 
If  I  complain  in  this  letter,  have  mercy  and  don^t  blame 
me,  for,  I  forewarn  you,  I  am  in  low  spirits,  and  that  earth 
and  heaven  are  dreary  and  empty  to  me  at  this  moment. 
In  a  few  days  our  vacation  will  begin;  everybody  is  joyous 
and  animated  at  the  prospect,  because  everybody  is  to  go 
home.  I  know  that  I  am  to  stay  here  during  the  five  weeks 
that  the  holidays  last,  and  that  I  shall  be  much  alone  dur- 


270  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

ing  that  time,  and  consequently  get  downcast,  and  find 
both  days  and  nights  of  a  weary  length.  It  is  the  first 
time  in  my  life  that  I  have  really  dreaded  the  vacation. 
Alas !  I  can  hardly  write,  I  have  such  a  dreary  weight  at 
my  heart;  and  I  do  so  wish  to  go  home.  Is  not  this  childish? 
Pardon  me,  for  I  cannot  help  it.  However,  though  I  am 
not  strong  enough  to  bear  up  cheerfully,  I  can  still  bear 
up;  and  I  will  continue  to  stay  (D.  V.)  some  months  longer, 
till  I  have  acquired  German ;  and  then  I  hope  to  see  all 
your  faces  again.  Would  that  the  vacation  were  well  over ! 
it  will  pass  so  slowly.  Do  have  the  Christian  charity  to 
write  me  a  long,  long  letter ;  fill  it  with  the  minutest  de- 
tails; nothing  will  be  uninteresting.  Do  not  think  it  is 
because  people  are  unkind  to  me  that  I  wish  to  leave  Bel- 
gium; nothing  of  the  sort.  Everybody  is  abundantly  civil, 
but  home-sickness  keeps  creeping  over  me.  I  cannot  shake 
it  off.    Believe  me,  very  merrily,  vivaciously,  gaily  yours, 

^C.  B/ 

The  grmides  vacances  began  soon  after  the  date  of  this 
letter,  when  she  was  left  in  the  great  deserted  pensionnat, 
with  only  one  teacher  for  a  companion.  This  teacher,  a 
Frenchwoman,  had  always  been  uncongenial  to  her ;  but, 
left  to  each  other's  sole  companionship,  Charlotte  soon  dis- 
covered that  her  associate  was  more  profligate,  more  steeped 
in  a  kind  of  cold,  systematic  sensuality,  than  she  had  before 
imagined  it  possible  for  a  human  being  to  be ;  and  her  whole 
nature  revolted  from  this  woman's  society.  A  low  nervous 
fever  was  gaining  upon  Miss  Bronte.  She  had  never  been  a 
good  sleeper,  but  now  she  could  not  sleep  at  all.  Whatever 
had  been  disagreeable,  or  obnoxious,  to  her  during  the  day 
was  presented  when  it  was  over  with  exaggerated  vividness 
to  her  disordered  fancy.  There  were  causes  for  distress  and 
anxiety  in  the  news  from  home,  particularly  as  regarded 
Branwell.  In  the  dead  of  the  night,  lying  awake  at  the  end 
of  the  long,  deserted  dormitory,  in  the  vast  and  silent  house, 
every  fear  respecting  those  whom  she  loved,  and  who  were 


ALONE  IN  BRUSSELS 


271 


so  1  I  off  in  another  country,  became  a  terrible  reality,  op- 
presoing  her  and  choking  up  the  very  life  blood  in  her 
heart.  Those  nights  were  times  of  sick,  dreary,  wakeful 
misery  ;  precursors  of  many  such  in  after  years/ 

^  An  interesting  letter  to  Emily,  printed  in  Charlotte  Bronte  and  her 
Circle,  was  written  at  this  time.  It  gives  the  actual  facts  of  a  famous 
incident  in  Villette : — 

*  Bruxelles :  September  2,  1843. 

•  Dear  E.  J., — Another  opportunity  of  writing  to  you  coming  to  pass, 
I  shall  improve  it  by  scribbling  a  few  lines.  More  than  half  the  holi- 
days are  now  past,  and  rather  better  than  I  expected.  The  weather 
has  been  exceedingly  fine  during  the  last  fortnight,  and  yet  not  so 
Asiatically  hot  as  it  was  last  year  at  this  time.  Consequently  I  have 
tramped  about  a  great  deal  and  tried  to  get  a  clearer  acquaintance  with 
the  streets  of  Bruxelles.  This  week,  as  no  teacher  is  here  except  Mile. 
Blanche,  who  is  returned  from  Paris,  I  am  always  alone  except  at 
meal  times,  for  Mile.  Blanche's  character  is  so  false  and  so  contempti- 
ble 1  can't  force  myself  to  associate  with  her.  She  perceives  my  ut- 
ter dislike  and  never  now  speaks  to  me — a  great  relief. 

'  However,  I  should  inevitably  fall  into  the  gulf  of  low  spirits  if  I 
stayed  always  by  myself  here  without  a  human  being  to  speak  to,  so 
I  go  out  and  traverse  the  Boulevards  and  streets  of  Bruxelles  some- 
times for  hours  together.  Yesterday  I  went  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
cemetery,  and  far  beyond  it  on  to  a  hill  where  there  was  nothing  but 
fields  as  far  as  the  horizon.  When  I  came  back  it  was  evening  ;  but 
I  had  such  a  repugnance  to  return  to  the  house,  which  contained 
nothing  that  I  cared  for,  I  §till  kept  threading  the  streets  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  Rue  d'Isabelle  and  avoiding  it.  I  found  myself  op- 
posite to  Ste.  Gudule,  and  the  bell,  whose  voice  you  know,  began 
to  toll  for  evening  salut.  I  went  in,  quite  alone  (which  procedure 
you  will  say  is  not  much  like  me),  wandered  about  the  aisles,  where  a 
few  old  women  were  saying  their  prayers,  till  vespers  began.  I  stayed 
till  they  were  over.  Still  I  could  not  leave  the  church  or  force  myself 
to  go  home — to  school  I  mean.  An  odd  whim  came  into  my  head.  In 
a  solitary  part  of  the  Cathedral  six  or  seven  people  still  remained 
kneeling  by  the  confessionals.  In  two  confessionals  I  saw  a  priest.  I 
felt  as  if  I  did  not  care  what  I  did,  provided  it  was  not  absolutely 
wrong,  and  that  it  served  to  vary  my  life  and  yield  a  moment's  inter- 
est. I  took  a  fancy  to  change  myself  into  a  Catholic  and  go  and  make 
a  real  confession,  to  see  what  it  was  like.  Knowing  me  as  you  do, 
you  will  think  this  odd,  but  when  people  are  by  themselves  they  have 
singular  fancies.     A  penitent  was  occupied  in  confessing.     Tliey  do 


272 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


In  the  daytime^  driven  abroad  by  loathing  of  her  com- 
panion and  by  the  weak  restlessness  of  fever^  she  tried  to 
walk  herself  into  such  a  state  of  bodily  fatigue  as  would  in- 
duce sleep.  So  she  went  out,  and  with  weary  steps  would 
traverse  the  Boulevards  and  the  streets,  sometimes  for  hours 
together  ;  faltering  and  resting  occasionally  on  some  of  the 
many  benches  placed  for  the  repose  of  happy  groups,  or  for 
solitary  wanderers  like  herself.  Then  up  again — anywhere 
but  to  the  pensionnat — out  to  the  cemetery  where  Martha 
lay — out  beyond  it,  to  the  hills  whence  there  is  nothing  to 
be  seen  but  fields  as  far  as  the  horizon.  The  shades  of 
evening  made  her  retrace  her  footsteps  —  sick  for  want 

not  go  into  the  sort  of  pew  or  cloister  which  the  priest  occupies,  but 
kneel  down  on  the  steps  and  confess  through  a  grating.  Both  the 
confessor  and  the  penitent  whisper  very  low,  you  can  hardly  hear 
their  voices.  After  I  had  watched  two  or  three  penitents  go  and  re- 
turn I  approached  at  last  and  knelt  down  in  a  niche  which  was  just 
vacated.  I  had  to  kneel  there  ten  minutes  waiting,  for  on  the  other 
side  was  another  penitent,  invisible  to  me.  At  last  that  went  away 
and  a  little  wooden  door  inside  the  grating  opened,  and  I  saw  the 
priest  leaning  his  ear  towards  me.  I  was  obliged  to  begin,  and  yet  I 
did  not  know  a  word  of  the  formula  with  which  they  always  com- 
mence their  confessions.  It  was  a  funny  position.  I  felt  precisely 
as  I  did  when  alone  on  the  Thames  at  midnight.  I  commenced  with 
saying  I  was  a  foreigner  and  had  been  brought  up  as  a  Protestant. 
The  priest  asked  if  I  was  a  Protestant  then.  I  somehow  could  not 
tell  a  lie  and  said  Yes."  He  replied  that  in  that  case  I  could  not 
''jouir  du  bonheur  de  la  confesse;"  but  I  was  determined  to  confess, 
and  at  last  he  said  he  would  allow  me,  because  it  might  be  the  first 
step  towards  returning  to  the  true  Church.  I  actually  did  confess — 
a  real  confession.  When  I  had  done  he  told  me  his  address,  and  said 
that  every  morning  I  was  to  go  to  the  Rue  du  Pare — to  his  house — and 
he  would  reason  with  me  and  try  to  convince  me  of  the  error  and 
enormity  of  being  a  Protestant  !  I  !  I  promised  faithfully  to  go.  Of 
course,  however,  the  adventure  stops  there,  and  I  hope  I  shall  never 
see  the  priest  again.  I  think  you  had  better  not  tell  papa  of  this.  He 
will  not  understand  that  it  was  only  a  freak,  and  will  perhaps  think  I 
am  going  to  turn  Catholic.  Trusting  that  you  and  papa  are  well, 
and  also  Tabby  and  the  Holyes,  and  hoping  you  will  write  to  me  im- 
mediately, I  am  yours, 


im         DEPRESSION  AND  HOME  SICKNESS  373 


of  food,  but  not  hungry  ;  fatigued  with  long-continued  ex- 
ercise —  yet  restless  still,  and  doomed  to  another  weary, 
haunted  night  of  sleeplessness.  She  would  thread  the 
streets  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Rue  d'Isabelle,  and 
yet  avoid  it  and  its  occupant,  till  as  late  an  hour  as  she 
dared  be  out.  At  last  she  was  compelled  to  keep  her  bed 
for  some  days,  and  this  compulsory  rest  did  her  good.  She 
was  weak,  but  less  depressed  in  spirits  than  she  had  been, 
when  the  school  reopened,  and  her  positive  practical  duties 
recommenced. 

She  writes  thus  on  October  13,  1843^  :  — 

^  Mary  (Taylor)  is  getting  on  well,  as  she  deserves  to  do. 
I  often  hear  from  her.  Her  letters  and  yours  are  one  of 
my  few  pleasures.  She  urges  me  very  much  to  leave  Brus- 
sels and  go  to  her ;  but  at  present,  however  tempted  to 
take  such  a  step,  I  should  not  feel  justified  in  doing  so.  To 
leave  a  certainty  for  a  complete  uncertainty  would  be  to 
the  last  degree  imprudent.  Notwithstanding  that  Brussels 
is  indeed  desolate  to  me  now.  Since  the  D(ixon)s  left  I 
have  had  no  friend.  I  had,  indeed,  some  very  kind  ac- 
quaintances in  the  family  of  a  Dr.  (Wheelwright),  but 
they,  too,  are  gone  now.  They  left  in  the  latter  part  of 
August,  and  I  am  completely  alone.  I  cannot  count  the 
Belgians  anything.  It  is  a  curious  position  to  be  so  ut- 
terly solitary  in  the  midst  of  numbers.  Sometimes  the 
solitude  oppresses  me  to  an  excess.  One  day,  lately,  I 
felt  as  if  I  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  I  went  to  Ma- 
dame Heger  and  gave  her  notice.  If  it  had  depended  on 
her  I  should  certainly  have  soon  been  at  liberty ;  but  M. 
Heger,  having  heard  of  what  was  in  agitation,  sent  for 
me  the  day  after,  and  pronounced  with  vehemence  his 
decision,  that  I  should  not  leave.  I  could  not,  at  that 
time,  have  persevered  in  my  intention  without  exciting 
him  to  anger ;  so  I  promised  to  stay  a  little  while  longer. 
How  long  that  will  be  I  do  not  know.    I  should  not  like 

^To  Ellen  Nussey. 


274 


! 

LiJ^Ji.  Vi<  CJHAKLUl^TE  BRONTE 


to  return  to  England  to  do  nothing.  I  am  too  old  for 
that  now  ;  but  if  I  could  hear  of  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity for  commencing  a  school^  I  think  I  should  em- 
brace it.    We  have  as  yet  no  fires  here,  and  I  suffer  much 

from  cold ;  otherwise  I  am  well  in  health.    Mr.  ^  will 

take  this  letter  to  England.  He  is  a  pretty-looking  and 
pretty-behaved  young  man,  apparently  constructed  with- 
out a  backbone ;  by  which  I  don't  allude  to  his  corporal 
spine,  which  is  all  right  enough,  but  to  his  character. 

^  I  get  on  here  after  a  fashion  ;  but  now  that  Mary  D(ixon) 
has  left  Brussels  I  have  nobody  to  speak  to,  for  I  count  the 
Belgians  as  nothing.  Sometimes  I  ask  myself.  How  long 
shall  I  stay  here  ?  but  as  yet  I  have  only  asked  the  ques- 
tion ;  I  have  not  answered  it.  However,  when  I  have  ac- 
quired as  much  German  as  I  think  fit  I  think  I  shall  pack 
up  bag  and  baggage,  and  depart.  Twinges  of  home-sick- 
ness cut  me  to  the  heart,  every  now  and  then.  To-day  the 
weather  is  glaring,  and  I  am  stupefied  with  a  bad  cold  and 
headache.  I  have  nothing  to  tell  you.  One  day  is  like 
another  in  this  place.  I  know  you,  living  in  the  country, 
can  hardly  believe  it  is  possible  life  can  be  monotonous  in 
the  centre  of  a  brilliant  capital  like  Brussels  ;  but  so  it  is. 
I  feel  it  most  on  holidays,  when  all  the  girls  and  teachers  go 
out  to  visit,  and  it  sometimes  happens  that  I  am  left,  dur- 
ing several  hours,  quite  alone,  with  four  great  desolate 
schoolrooms  at  my  disposition.  I  try  to  read,  I  try  to 
write  ;  but  in  vain.  I  then  wander  about  from  room  to 
room,  but  the  silence  and  loneliness  of  all  the  house  weighs 
down  one's  spirits  like  lead.  You  will  hardly  believe  that 
Madame  Heger  (good  and  kind  as  I  have  described  her'*) 
never  comes  near  me  on  these  occasions.  I  own  I  was  as- 
tonished the  first  time  I  was  left  alone  thus ;  when  every- 
body else  was  enjoying  the  pleasures  of  a  fete  day  with 

^  The  late  Mr.  George  Dbcon,  afterwards  M.P.  for  Birmingham. 

2  This,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  is  ironical.  In  a  previous  letter 
to  the  same  correspondeut  ahe  says,  '  Madame  Heger  is  a  politic,  plausi- 
ble, and  interested  person.    I  no  longer  trust  her.' 


im    ESTRANGEMENT  FROM  MADAME  HEGER  275 


their  friends,  and  she  knew  I  was  quite  by  myself,  and 
never  took  the  least  notice  of  me.  Yet,  I  understand,  she 
praises  me  very  much  to  everybody,  and  says  what  excellent 
lessons  I  give.  She  is  not  colder  to  me  than  she  is  to  the 
other  teachers;  but  they  are  less  dependent  on  her  than  I 
am.  They  have  relations  and  acquaintances  in  Bruxelles. 
You  remember  the  letter  she  wrote  me,  when  I  was  in  Eng- 
land ?  How  kind  and  affectionate  that  was  !  is  it  not  odd? 
In  the  meantime  the  complaints  I  make  at  present  are  a 
sort  of  relief  which  I  permit  myself.  In  all  other  respects 
I  am  well  satisfied  with  my  position,  and  you  may  say  so  to 
people  who  inquire  after  me  (if  any  one  does).  Write  to 
me,  dear,  whenever  you  can.  You  do  a  good  deed  when 
you  send  me  a  letter,  for  you  comfort  a  very  desolate 
heart.  ^ 

One  of  the  reasons  for  the  silent  estrangement  between 
Madame  Heger  and  Miss  Bronte,  in  the  second  year  of  her 
residence  at  Brussels,  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  the 
English  Protestant's  dislike  of  Romanism  increased  with  her 
knowledge  of  it,  and  its  effects  upon  those  who  professed  it; 
and  when  occasion  called  for  an  expression  of  opinion  from 
Charlotte  Bronte  she  was  uncompromising  truth.  Madame 
Heger,  on  the  opposite  side,  was  not  merely  a  Roman  Cath- 
olic, she  was  devote.  Not  of  a  warm  or  impulsive  temper- 
ament, she  was  naturally  governed  by  her  conscience, 
rather  than  by  her  affections  ;  and  her  conscience  was  in 
the  hands  of  her  religious  guides.  She  considered  any 
slight  thrown  upon  her  Church  as  blasphemy  against  the 
Holy  Truth;  and,  though  she  was  not  given  to  open  ex- 
pression of  her  thoughts  and  feelings,  yet  her  increasing 
coolness  of  behaviour  showed  how  much  her  most  cherished 
opinions  had  been  wounded.  Thus,  although  there  was 
never  any  explanation  of  Madame  Heger's  change  of  man- 
ner, this  may  be  given  as  one  great  reason  why,  about  this 
time,  Charlotte  was  made  painfully  conscious  of  a  silent 
estrangement  between  them ;  an  estrangement  of  which. 


276 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


perhaps^  the  former  was  hardly  aware.  I  have  before  al- 
luded to  intelligence  from  home,  calculated  to  distress 
Charlotte  exceedingly  with  fears  respecting  Branwell, 
which  I  shall  speak  of  more  at  large  when  the  realisation 
of  her  worst  apprehensions  came  to  affect  the  daily  life  of 
herself  and  her  sisters.  I  allude  to  the  subject  again  here, 
in  order  that  the  reader  may  remember  the  gnawing  private 
cares  which  she  had  to  bury  in  her  own  heart ;  and  the 
pain  of  which  could  only  be  smothered  for  a  time  under 
the  diligent  fulfilment  of  present  duty.  Another  dim  sor- 
row was  faintly  perceived  at  this  time.  Her  father's  eye- 
sight began  to  fail ;  it  was  not  unlikely  that  he  might 
shortly  become  blind  ;  more  of  his  duty  must  devolve  on  a 
curate,  and  Mr.  Bronte,  always  liberal,  would  have  to  pay 
at  a  higher  rate  than  he  had  heretofore  done  for  this  as- 
sistance. 

She  wrote  thus  to  Emily  : — 

'  Dec.  1,  1843. 

^  This  is  Sunday  morning.  They  are  at  their  idolatrous 
"  messe,'^  and  I  am  here — that  is,  in  the  refectoire.  I  should 
like  uncommonly  to  be  in  the  dining-room  at  home,  or  in 
the  kitchen,  or  in  the  back  kitchen.  I  should  like  even  to 
be  cutting  up  the  hash,  with  the  clerk  and  some  register 
people  at  the  other  table,  and  you  standing  by,  watching 
that  I  put  enough  flour,  and  not  too  much  pepper,  and, 
above  all,  that  I  save  the  best  pieces  of  the  leg  of  mutton 
for  Tiger  and  Keeper,  the  first  of  which  personages  would 
be  jumping  about  the  dish  and  carving-knife,  and  the  lat- 
ter standing  like  a  devouring  flame  on  the  kitchen  floor. 
To  complete  the  picture.  Tabby  blowing  the  fire,  in  order 
to  boil  the  potatoes  to  a  sort  of  vegetable  glue !  How  di- 
vine are  these  recollections  to  me  at  this  moment !  Yet  I 
have  no  thought  of  coming  home  just  now.  I  lack  a  real 
pretext  for  doing  so ;  it  is  true  this  place  is  dismal  to  me, 
but  I  cannot  go  home  without  a  fixed  prospect  when  I  get 
there  ;  and  this  prospect  must  not  be  a  situation ;  that 
would  be  jumping  out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire.  You 


1843 


ANXIETY  TO  RETURN  HOME 


277 


call  yourself  idle  !  absurd,  absurd  !  ...  Is  papa  well  ?  Are 
you  well  ?  and  Tabby  ?  You  ask  about  Queen  Victoria's 
visit  to  Brussels.  I  saw  her  for  an  instant  flashing  through 
the  Rue  Roy  ale  in  a  carriage  and  six,  surrounded  by  sol- 
diers. She  was  laughing  and  talking  very  gaily.  She 
looked  a  little  stout,  vivacious  lady,  very  plainly  dressed, 
not  much  dignity  or  pretension  about  her.  The  Belgians 
liked  her  very  well  on  the  whole.  They  said  she  enlivened 
the  sombre  Court  of  King  Leopold,  which  is  usually  as 
gloomy  as  a  conventicle.  AVrite  to  me  again  soon.  Tell  me 
whether  papa  really  wants  me  very  much  to  come  home, 
and  whether  you  do  likewise.  I  have  an  idea  that  1  should 
be  of  no  use  there — a  sort  of  aged  person  upon  the  parish. 
I  pray,  with  heart  and  soul,  that  all  may  continue  well 
at  Haworth;  above  all  in  our  grey,  half-inhabited  house. 
God  bless  the  walls  thereof  !  Safety,  health,  happiness,  and 
prosperity  to  you,  papa,  and  Tabby.  Amen.  0.  B.' 

Towards  the  end  of  this  year  (1843)  various  reasons  con- 
spired with  the  causes  of  anxiety  which  have  been  mentioned 
to  make  her  feel  that  her  presence  was  absolutely  and  im- 
peratively required  at  home,  while  she  had  acquired  all  that 
she  proposed  to  herself  in  coming  to  Brussels  the  second 
time  ;  and  was,  moreover,  no  longer  regarded  with  the 
former  kindliness  of  feeling  by  Madame  Heger.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  state  of  things,  working  down  with  sharp 
edge  into  a  sensitive  mind,  she  suddenly  announced  to  that 
lady  her  immediate  intention  of  returning  to  England.  Both 
M.  and  Madame  Heger  agreed  that  it  would  be  for  the  best, 
when  they  learnt  only  that  part  of  the  case  which  she  could 
reveal  to  them — namely,  Mr.  Bronte's  increasing  blindness. 
But  as  the  inevitable  moment  of  separation  from  people  and 
places,  among  which  she  had  spent  so  many  happy  hours, 
drew  near,  her  spirits  gave  way ;  she  had  the  natural  pre- 
sentiment that  she  saw  them  all  for  the  last  time,  and  she 
received  but  a  dead  kind  of  comfort  from  being  reminded 
by  her  friends  that  Brussels  and  Haworth  were  not  so  very 


278  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


far  apart ;  that  access  from  one  place  to  the  other  was  not 
so  difficult  or  impracticable  as  her  tears  would  seem  to  predi- 
cate ;  nay,  there  was  some  talk  of  one  of  Madame  Heger^s 
daughters  being  sent  to  her  as  a  pupil,  if  she  fulfilled  her 
intention  of  trying  to  begin  a  school.  To  facilitate  her 
success  in  this  plan,  should  she  ever  engage  in  it,  M.  Heger 
gave  her  a  kind  of  diploma,  dated  from  and  sealed  with  the 
seal  of  the  Athenee  Royal  de  Bruxelles,  certifying  that  she 
was  perfectly  capable  of  teaching  the  French  language, 
having  well  studied  the  grammar  and  composition  thereof, 
and,  moreover,  having  prepared  herself  for  teaching  by 
studying  and  practising  the  best  methods  of  instruction. 
This  certificate  is  dated  December  29, 1843,  and  on  January 
2,  1844,  she  arrived  at  Haworth. 

On  the  23rd  of  the  month  she  writes  as  follows — 

^  Every  one  asks  me  what  I  am  going  to  do,  now  that  I 
am  returned  home  ;  and  every  one  seems  to  expect  that  I 
should  immediately  commence  a  school.  In  truth,  it  is 
what  I  should  wish  to  do.  I  desire  it  above  all  things.  I 
have  sufficient  money  for  the  undertaking,  and  I  hope  now 
sufficient  qualifications  to  give  me  a  fair  chance  of  success; 
yet  I  cannot  yet  permit  myself  to  enter  upon  life — to  touch 
the  object  which  seems  now  within  my  reach,  and  which  I 
have  been  so  long  straining  to  attain.  You  will  ask  me 
why.  It  is  on  papa^s  account ;  he  is  now,  as  you  know, 
getting  old,  and  it  grieves  me  to  tell  you  that  he  is  losing 
his  sight.  I  have  felt  for  some  months  that  I  ought  not  to 
be  away  from  him;  and  I  feel  now  that  it  would  be  too 
selfish  to  leave  him  (at  least  as  long  as  Bran  well  and  Anne 
are  absent),  in  order  to  pursue  selfish  interests  of  my  own. 
With  the  help  of  God  I  will  try  to  deny  myself  in  this  mat- 
ter, and  to  wait. 

^  I  suffered  much  before  I  left  Brussels.  I  think,  how- 
ever long  I  live,  I  shall  not  forget  what  the  parting  with  M. 


^  To  Ellen  Nussey 


1844 


KINDNESS  OF  HER  NATURE 


279 


Heger  cost  me  ;  it  grieved  me  so  much  to  grieve  him,  who 
has  been  so  true,  kind^  and  disinterested  a  friend.^  At 
parting  he  gave  me  a  kind  of  diploma  certifying  my  abili- 
ties as  a  teacher,  sealed  with  the  seal  of  the  Athenee  Royal, 
of  which  he  is  professor.  I  was  surprised  also  at  the  degree 
of  regret  expressed  by  my  Belgian  pupils,  when  they  knew 
I  was  going  to  leave.  I  did  not  think  it  had  been  in  their 
phlegmatic  nature.  ...  I  do  not  know  whether  you  feel  as 
I  do,  but  there  are  times  now  when  it  appears  to  me  as  if 
all  my  ideas  and  feelings,  except  a  few  friendships  and  af- 
fections, are  changed  from  what  they  used  to  be  ;  some- 
thing in  me,  which  used  to  be  enthusiasm,  is  tamed  down 
and  broken.  I  have  fewer  illusions  ;  what  I  wish  for  now 
is  active  exertion — a  stake  in  life.  Haworth  seems  such  a 
lonely,  quiet  spot,  buried  away  from  the  world.  I  no  longer 
regard  myself  as  young — indeed,  I  shall  soon  be  twenty- 
eight  ;  and  it  seems  as  if  I  ought  to  be  working  and  brav- 
ing the  rough  realities  of  the  world,  as  other  people  do.  It 
is,  however,  my  duty  to  restrain  this  feeling  at  present,  and 
I  will  endeavour  to  do  so.' 

Of  course  her  absent  sister  and  brother  obtained  a  holi- 
day to  welcome  her  return  home,  and  in  a  few  weeks  she 
was  spared  to  pay  a  visit  to  her  friend  at  B(irstall).  But 
she  was  far  from  well  or  strong,  and  the  short  journey  of 
fourteen  miles  seems  to  have  fatigued  her  greatly. 

Soon  after  she  came  back  to  Haworth,  in  a  letter  to  one 
of  the  household  in  which  she  had  been  staying,  there 

'  M.  and  Mme.  Heger  celebrated  their  golden  wedding  in  1888,  but 
Mme.  Heger  died  the  next  year.  M.  Constantin  Heger  lived  to  be 
eii^hty-seven  years  of  age,  dying  at  72  Rue  Nettoyer,  Brussels,  on  May 
6,  1896.  He  was  born  in  Brussels  in  1809,  took  part  in  the  Belgian  revo- 
lution  of  1830,  and  fought  in  the  war  of  independence  against  the 
Dutch.  He  was  twice  married,  and  it  was  his  second  wife  who  was 
associated  with  Charlotte  Bronte.  She  started  the  school  in  the  Rue 
d'Isabelle,  and  M.  Heger  took  charge  of  the  upper  French  classes.  The 
Pensionnat  Heger  was  removed  in  1894  to  the  Avenue  Louise.  I  had 
an  interview  with  Mile.  Heger  in  1895.  Her  father,  however,  was  too 
ill  to  see  me. 


280 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


occurs  this  passage  :  ^  Our  poor  little  cat  has  been  ill  two 
days,  and  is  just  dead.  It  is  piteous  to  see  even  an  animal 
lying  lifeless.  Emily  is  sorry. ^  These  few  words  relate  to 
points  in  the  characters  of  the  two  sisters  which  I  must 
dwell  upon  a  little.  Charlotte  was  more  than  commonly 
tender  in  her  treatment  of  all  dumb  creatures,  and  they, 
with  that  fine  instinct  so  often  noticed,  were  invariably 
attracted  towards  her.  The  deep  and  exaggerated  con- 
sciousness of  her  personal  defects — the  constitutional  ab- 
sence of  hope,  which  made  her  slow  to  trust  in  human 
affection,  and,  consequently,  slow  to  respond  to  any  mani- 
festation of  it — made  her  manner  shy  and  constrained  to 
men  and  women,  and  even  to  children.  We  have  seen 
something  of  this  trembling  distrust  of  her  own  capability 
of  inspiring  affection  in  the  grateful  surprise  she  expresses 
at  the  regret  felt  by  her  Belgian  pupils  at  her  departure. 
But  not  merely  were  her  actions  kind,  her  words  and  tones 
were  ever  gentle  and  caressing,  towards  animals :  and  she 
quickly  noticed  the  least  want  of  care  or  tenderness  on  the 
part  of  others  towards  any  poor  brute  creature.  The 
readers  of  ^Shirley'  may  remember  that  it  is  one  of  the 
tests  which  the  heroine  applies  to  her  lover : — 

^Do  you  know  what  soothsayers  I  would  consult  ?^  .  .  . 
'  The  little  Irish  beggar  that  comes  barefoot  to  my  door ; 
the  mouse  that  steals  out  of  the  cranny  in  my  wainscot ; 
the  bird  in  frost  and  snow  that  pecks  at  my  window  for  a 
crumb ;  the  dog  that  licks  my  hand  and  sits  beside  my 
knee.  ...  I  know  somebody  to  whose  knee  the  black  cat 
loves  to  climb,  against  whose  shoulder  and  cheek  it  likes 
to  purr.  The  old  dog  always  comes  out  of  his  kennel  and 
wags  his  tail,  and  whines  affectionately  when  somebody  pass- 
es.' [For  ^somebody 'and  ^he,'  read  ^Charlotte  Bronte 'and 
^she.']  ^  He  quietly  strokes  the  cat,  and  lets  her  sit  while  he 
conveniently  can  ;  and  when  he  must  disturb  her  by  rising 
he  puts  her  softly  down,  and  never  flings  her  from  him  rough- 
ly :  he  always  whistles  to  the  dog,  and  gives  him  a  caress.' 


1844  EMILY  AND  HER  DOG  ^KEEPER'  281 


The  feeling,  which  in  Charlotte  partook  of  something 
of  the  nature  of  an  affection,  was,  with  Emily,  more  of  a 
passion.  Some  one  speaking  of  her  to  me,  in  a  careless 
kind  of  strength  of  expression,  said,  ^She  never  showed 
regard  to  any  human  creature  ;  all  her  love  was  reserved 
for  animals/  The  helplessness  of  an  animal  was  its  passport 
to  Charlotte^s  heart;  the  fierce,  wild  intractability  of  its 
nature  was  what  often  recommended  it  to  Emily.  Speak- 
ing of  her  dead  sister,  the  former  told  me  that  from  her 
many  traits  in  Shirley^s  character  were  taken  :  her  way 
of  sitting  on  the  rug  reading,  with  her  arm  round  her 
rough  bulldog's  neck  ;  her  calling  to  a  strange  dog,  run- 
ning past,  with  hanging  head  and  lolling  tongue,  to 
give  it  a  merciful  draught  of  water,  its  maddened  snap 
at  her,  her  nobly  stern  presence  of  mind,  going  right  into 
the  kitchen,  and  taking  up  one  of  Tabby's  red-hot  Italian 
irons  to  sear  the  bitten  place,  and  telling  no  one,  till  the 
danger  was  wellnigh  over,  for  fear  of  the  terrors  that  might 
beset  their  weaker  minds.  All  this,  looked  upon  as  well- 
invented  fiction  in  '  Shirley,'  was  written  down  by  Charlotte 
with  streaming  eyes ;  it  was  the  literal  true  account  of  what 
Emily  had  done.  The  same  tawny  bulldog  (with  his 
^  strangled  whistle called  '  Tartar  ^  in  '  Shirley,^  was 
^  Keeper^  in  Ilaworth  Parsonage;  a  gift  to  Emily.  With 
the  gift  came  a  warning.  Keeper  was  faithful  to  the  depths 
of  his  nature  as  long  as  he  was  with  friends  ;  but  he  who 
struck  him  with  a  stick  or  whip  roused  the  relentless 
nature  of  the  brute,  who  flew  at  his  throat  forthwith,  and 
held  him  there  till  one  or  the  other  was  at  the  point  of 
death.  Now  Keeper's  household  fault  was  this :  he  loved 
to  steal  upstairs,  and  stretch  his  square  tawny  limbs  on  the 
comfortable  beds,  covered  over  with  delicate  white  coun- 
terpanes. But  the  cleanliness  of  the  parsonage  arrange- 
ments was  perfect;  and  this  habit  of  Keeper's  was  so 
objectionable  that  Emily,  in  reply  to  Tabby's  remonstrances, 
declared  that,  if  he  was  found  again  transgressing,  she  her- 
self, in  defiance  of  warning  and  his  well-known  ferocity  of 


282 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


nature,  would  beat  him  so  severely  that  he  would  never 
offend  again.  In  the  gathering  dusk  of  an  autumn  evening 
Tabby  came,  half  triumphantly,  half  tremblingly,  but  in 
great  wrath,  to  tell  Emily  that  Keeper  was  lying  on  the 
best  bed,  in  drowsy  voluptuousness.  Charlotte  saw  Emily's 
whitening  face  and  set  mouth,  but  dared  not  speak  to  in- 
terfere ;  no  one  dared  when  Emily's  eyes  glowed  in  that 
manner  out  of  the  paleness  of  her  face,  and  when  her  lips 
were  compressed  into  stone.  She  went  upstairs,  and  Tabby 
and  Charlotte  stood  in  the  gloomy  passage  below,  full  of 
the  dark  shadows  of  coming  night.  Downstairs  came 
Emily,  dragging  after  her  the  unwilling  Keeper,  his  hind 
legs  set  in  a  heavy  attitude  of  resistance,  held  by  the  ^scuft 
of  his  neck,'  but  growling  low  and  savagely  all  the  time. 
The  watchers  would  fain  have  spoken,  but  durst  not,  for 
fear  of  taking  off  Emily's  attention,  and  causing  her  to 
avert  her  head  for  a  moment  from  the  enraged  brute.  She 
let  him  go,  planted  in  a  dark  corner  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs ;  no  time  was  there  to  fetch  stick  or  rod,  for  fear  of 
the  strangling  clutch  at  her  throat — her  bare  clenched  fist 
struck  against  his  red  fierce  eyes,  before  he  had  time  to 
make  his  spring,  and,  in  the  language  of  the  turf,  she 
^punished  him^  till  his  eyes  were  swelled  up,  and  the  half- 
blind,  stupefied  beast  was  led  to  his  accustomed  lair  to 
have  his  swollen  head  fomented  and  cared  for  by  the  very 
Emily  herself.  The  generous  dog  owed  her  no  grudge  ;  he 
loved  her  dearly  ever  after ;  he  walked  first  among  the 
mourners  at  her  funeral ;  he  slept  moaning  for  nights  at 
the  door  of  her  empty  room,  and  never,  so  to  speak,  re- 
joiced, dog  fashion,  after  her  death.  He,  in  his  turn,  was 
mourned  over  by  the  surviving  sister.  Let  us  somehow 
hope,  in  half  Red-Indian  creed,  that  he  follows  Emily  now  ; 
and,  when  he  rests,  sleeps  on  some  soft  white  bed  of 
dreams,  unpunished  when  he  awakes  to  the  life  of  the  land 
of  shadows. 

Now  we  can  understand  the  force  of  the  words,  ^Our 
poor  little  cat  is  dead.    Emily  is  sorry.' 


CHAPTEK  XIII 


The  moors  were  a  great  resource  this  spring;  Emily  and 
Charlotte  walked  out  on  them  perpetually,  ^to  the  great 
damage  of  our  shoes,  but,  I  hope,  to  the  benefit  of  our 
health/  The  old  plan  of  school-keeping  was  often  dis- 
cussed in  these  rambles ;  but  indoors  they  set  with  vigour 
to  shirt-making  for  the  absent  Branwell,  and  pondered  in 
silence  over  their  past  and  future  life.  At  last  they  came 
to  a  determination. 

^I  have  seriously  entered  into  the  enterprise  of  keeping 
a  school — or  rather  taking  a  limited  number  of  pupils  at 
home.  That  is,  I  have  begun  in  good  earnest  to  seek  for 
pupils.  I  wrote  to  Mrs.  (White)'  (the  lady  with  whom  she 
had  lived  as  governess,  just  before  going  to  Brussels),  "^not 
asking  her  for  her  daughter — I  cannot  do  that — but  inform- 
ing her  of  my  intention.  I  received  an  answer  from  Mr. 
(White)  expressive  of,  I  believe,  sincere  regret  that  I  had 
not  informed  them  a  month  sooner,  in  which  case,  he  said, 
they  would  gladly  have  sent  me  their  own  daughter,  and 
also  Colonel  KS(tott)'s,  but  that  now  both  were  promised  to 
Miss  C(orkhills).  I  was  partly  disappointed  by  this  answer, 
and  partly  gratified  ;  indeed,  I  derived  quite  an  impulse 
of  encouragement  from  the  warm  assurance  that  if  I  had 
but  applied  a  little  sooner  they  would  certainly  have  sent 
me  their  daughter.  I  own  I  had  misgivings  that  nobody 
would  be  willing  to  send  a  child  for  education  to  Haworth. 
These  misgivings  are  partly  done  away  with.  I  have  writ- 
ten also  to  Mrs.  B(usfeild),  of  Keighley,  and  have  enclosed 
the  diploma  which  M.  Heger  gave  me  before  I  left  Brus- 


284 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


sels.  I  have  not  yet  received  her  answer,  but  I  wait  for  it 
with  some  anxiety.  I  do  not  expect  that  she  will  send  me 
any  of  her  children,  but  if  she  would  I  dare  say  she  could 
recommend  me  other  pupils.  Unfortunately  she  knows  us 
only  very  slightly.  As  soon  as  I  can  get  an  assurance  of 
only  one  pupil,  I  will  have  cards  of  terms  printed,  and  will 
commence  the  repairs  necessary  in  the  house.  I  wish  all 
that  to  be  done  before  winter.  I  think  of  fixing  the  board 
and  English  education  at       per  annum. 

Again,  at  a  later  date,  July  24  in  the  same  year,  she 
writes — 

^  I  am  driving  on  with  my  small  matter  as  well  as  I  can. 
I  have  written  to  all  the  friends  on  whom  I  have  the  slight- 
est claim,  and  to  some  on  whom  I  have  no  claim ;  Mrs. 
B(usfeild),  for  example.  On  her,  also,  I  have  actually 
made  bold  to  call.  She  was  exceedingly  polite  ;  regretted 
that  her  children  were  already  at  school  at  Liverpool ; 
thought  the  undertaking  a  most  praiseworthy  one,  but 
feared  I  should  have  some  difficulty  in  making  it  succeed 
on  account  of  the  situatio7i.  Such  is  the  answer  I  receive 
from  almost  every  one.  I  tell  them  the  retired  situation 
is,  in  some  points  of  view,  an  advantage  ;  that  were  it  in 
the  midst  of  a  large  town  I  could  not  pretend  to  take 
pupils  on  terms  so  moderate — Mrs.  B(usfeild)  remarked 
that  she  thought  the  terms  very  moderate — but  that,  as  it 
is,  not  having  house-rent  to  pay,  we  can  offer  the  same 
privileges  of  education  that  are  to  be  had  in  expensive 
seminaries,  at  little  more  than  half  their  price  ;  and,  as 
our  number  must  be  limited,  we  can  devote  a  large  share 
of  time  and  pains  to  each  pupil.  Thank  you  for  the  very 
pretty  little  purse  you  have  sent  me.  I  make  you  a  cu- 
rious return  in  the  shape  of  half  a  dozen  cards  of  terms. 
Make  such  use  of  them  as  your  judgment  shall  dictate. 
You  will  see  that  I  have  fixed  the  sum  at  35Z.,  which  I 
think  is  the  just  medium,  considering  advantages  and  dis- 
advantages.^ 


1844  DISTRIBUTION  OF  CIRCULAR 


285 


This  was  written  in  July;  August,  September,  and  Octo- 
ber passed  away,  and  no  pupils  were  to  be  heard  of.  Day 
after  day  there  was  a  little  hope  felt  by  the  sisters  until 
the  post  came  in.  But  Haworth  village  was  wild  and  lonely, 
and  the  Brontes  but  little  known,  owing  to  their  want  of 
connections.  Charlotte  writes  on  the  subject,  in  the  early 
winter  months,  to  this  effect : — 

^I,  Emily,  and  Anne  are  truly  obliged  to  you  for  the 
efforts  you  have  made  in  our  behalf ;  and  if  you  have  not 
been  successful  you  are  only  like  ourselves.  Every  one 
wishes  us  well ;  but  there  are  no  pupils  to  be  had.  We 
have  no  present  intention,  however,  of  breaking  our  hearts 
on  the  subject,  still  less  of  feeling  mortified  at  defeat.  The 
effort  must  be  beneficial,  whatever  the  result  may  be,  be- 
cause it  teaches  us  experience,  and  an  additional  knowledge 
of  this  world.    I  send  you  two  more  circulars.^  ^ 

^  The  circular  ran  as  follows  : — 


THE  MISSES  BRONTfi'S  ESTABLISHMENT 


FOR 


THE  BOARD  A]^D  EDUCATIOK 


OP  A  LIMITED  NUMBER  OP 


YOUNG  LADIES, 
THE  PARSONAGE,  HAWORTH, 
NEAR  BRADFORD. 


Terms. 


Board  and  Education,  including  AVriting,  Arithmetic,  History,  Gram-1 


£  s.  d. 

35   0  0 


110 


Music  -J  ,  ^ 

Drawing  }  *    '  Quarter 


110 


Use  of  Piano  Forte,  per  Quarter 
Washing,  per  Quarter    .    .  . 


0  5  0 
0  15  0 


Each  Young  Lady  to  be  provided  with  One  Pair  of  Sheets,  Pillow  Cases, 
Four  Towels,  a  Dessert  and  Tea  Spoon. 


A  Quarter's  Notice,  or  a  Quarter's  Board,  is  required  previous  to  the 
Removal  of  a  Pupil. 


286 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


A  month  later  she  says  : — 

'  We  have  made  no  alterations  yet  in  our  house.  It  would 
be  folly  to  do  so,  while  there  is  so  little  likelihood  of  our 
ever  getting  pupils.  I  fear  you  are  giving  yourself  too  much 
trouble  on  our  account.  Depend  upon  it,  if  you  were  to 
persuade  a  mamma  to  bring  her  child  to  Haworth,  the  as- 
pect of  the  place  would  frighten  her,  and  she  would  prob- 
ably take  the  dear  girl  back  with  her  instanter.  We  are 
glad  that  we  have  made  the  attempt,  and  we  will  not  be 
cast  down  because  it  has  not  succeeded.^ 

There  were,  probably,  growing  up  in  each  sister's  heart 
secret  unacknowledged  feelings  of  relief  that  their  plan  had 
not  succeeded.  Yes  !  a  dull  sense  of  relief  that  their  cher- 
ished project  had  been  tried  and  had  failed.  For  that  house, 
which  was  to  be  regarded  as  an  occasional  home  for  their 
brother,  could  hardly  be  a  fitting  residence  for  the  children 
of  strangers.  They  had,  in  all  likelihood,  become  silently 
aware  that  his  habits  were  such  as  to  render  his  society  at 
times  most  undesirable.  Possibly,  too,  they  had,  by  this 
time,  heard  distressing  rumours  concerning  the  cause  of 
that  remorse  and  agony  of  mind  which  at  times  made  him 
restless  and  unnaturally  merry,  at  times  rendered  him  moody 
and  irritable. 

In  January  1845  Charlotte  says,  ^  Branwell  has  been 
quieter  and  less  irritable  on  the  whole  this  time  than  he 
was  in  summer.  Anne  is,  as  usual,  always  good,  mild,  and 
patient.'  The  deep-seated  pain  which  he  was  to  occasion 
to  his  relations  had  now  taken  a  decided  form,  and  pressed 
heavily  on  Charlotte's  health  and  spirits.  Early  in  this 
year  she  went  to  H.*  to  bid  good-bye  to  her  dear  friend 
^  Mary,'  who  was  leaving  England  for  Australia. 

Branwell,  I  have  mentioned,  had  obtained  the  situation 
of  a  private  tutor.    Anne  was  also  engaged  as  governess  in 

*  Hunsworth,  the  residence  of  the  Taylors  at  this  time.  Mary  was 
going  to  New  Zealand,  not  Australia. 


1845 


SAD  FOREBODINGS 


287 


the  same  family,  and  was  thus  a  miserable  witness  to  her 
brother's  deterioration  of  character  at  this  period.  Of  the 
causes  of  this  deterioration  I  cannot  speak  ;  but  the  conse- 
quences were  these  :  He  went  home  for  his  holidays  reluc- 
tantly, stayed  there  as  short  a  time  as  possible,  perplexing 
and  distressing  them  all  by  his  extraordinary  conduct — at 
one  time  in  the  highest  spirits,  at  another  in  the  deepest 
depression — accusing  himself  of  blackest  guilt  and  treach- 
ery, without  specifying  what  they  were  ;  and  altogether 
evincing  an  irritability  of  disposition  bordering  on  in- 
sanity. 

Charlotte  and  Emily  suffered  acutely  from  his  mysteri- 
ous behaviour.  He  expressed  himself  more  than  satisfied 
with  his  situation  ;  he  was  remaining  in  it  for  a  longer 
time  than  he  had  ever  done  in  any  kind  of  employment 
before ;  so  that  for  some  time  they  could  not  conjecture 
that  anything  there  made  him  so  wilful  and  restless  and 
full  of  both  levity  and  misery.  But  a  sense  of  something 
wrong  connected  with  him  sickened  and  oppressed  them. 
They  began  to  lose  all  hope  in  his  future  career.  He  was 
no  longer  the  family  pride  ;  an  indistinct  dread,  caused 
partly  by  his  own  conduct,  partly  by  expressions  of  ago- 
nising suspicion  in  Anne's  letters  home,  was  creeping  over 
their  minds  that  he  might  turn  out  their  deep  disgrace. 
But,  I  believe,  they  shrank  from  any  attempt  to  define 
their  fears,  and  spoke  of  him  to  each  other  as  little  as 
possible.  They  could  not  help  but  think,  and  mourn,  and 
wonder. 

•February  20, 1845. 
^  I  spent  a  week  at  H(unsworth),  not  very  pleasantly ; 
headache,  sickliness,  and  flatness  of  spirits  made  me  a  poor 
companion,  a  sad  drag  on  the  vivacious  and  loquacious 
gaiety  of  all  the  other  inmates  of  the  house.  I  never  was 
fortunate  enough  to  be  able  to  rally,  for  as  much  as  a  single 
hour,  while  I  was  there.  I  am  sure  all,  with  the  excep- 
tion, perhaps,  of  Mary,  were  very  glad  when  I  took  my 
departure.    I  begin  to  perceive  that  I  have  too  little  life 


288 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


in  me,  nowadays,  to  be  fit  company  for  any  except  very 
quiet  people.  Is  it  age,  or  what  else,  that  changes  me  so?^ 
Alas  !  she  hardly  needed  to  have  asked  this  question. 
How  could  she  be  otherwise  than  ^flat-spirited,'  ^a  poor 
companion,^  and  a  ^  sad  drag'  on  the  gaiety  of  those  who 
were  light-hearted  and  happy  ?  Her  honest  plan  for  earn- 
ing her  own  livelihood  had  fallen  away,  crumbled  to  ashes; 
after  all  her  preparations  not  a  pupil  had  offered  herself  ; 
and,  instead  of  being  sorry  that  this  wish  of  many  years 
could  not  be  realised,  she  had  reason  to  be  glad.  Her  poor 
father,  nearly  sightless,  depended  upon  her  cares  in  his 
blind  helplessness  ;  but  this  was  a  sacred,  pious  charge,  the 
duties  of  which  she  was  blessed  in  fulfilling.  The  black 
gloom  hung  over  what  had  once  been  the  brightest  hope 
of  the  family — over  Branwell,  and  the  mystery  in  which 
his  wayward  conduct  was  enveloped.  Somehow  and  some 
time  he  would  have  to  turn  to  his  home  as  a  hiding-place 
for  shame ;  such  was  the  sad  foreboding  of  his  sis- 
ters. Then  how  could  she  be  cheerful,  when  she  was  los- 
ing her  dear  and  noble  *  Mary,'  for  such  a  length  of  time 
and  distance  of  space  that  her  heart  might  well  prophesy 
that  it  w^as  ^for  ever'?  Long  before  she  had  written  of 
Mary  T(aylor)  that  she  ^  was  full  of  feelings  noble,  warm, 
generous,  devoted,  and  profound.  God  bless  her !  I 
never  hope  to  see  in  this  world  a  character  more  truly 
noble.  She  would  die  willingly  for  one  she  loved.  Her 
intellect  and  attainments  are  of  the  very  highest  standard.' 
And  this  was  the  friend  whom  she  was  to  lose!  Hear  that 
friend's  account  of  their  final  interview: — 

^When  I  last  saw  Charlotte  (Jan.  1845)  she  told  me 
she  had  quite  decided  to  stay  at  home.  She  owned  she 
did  not  like  it.  Her  health  was  weak.  She  said  she 
would  like  any  change  at  first,  as  she  had  liked  Brussels 
at  first,  and  she  thought  that  there  might  be  some  pos- 
sibility for  some  people  of  having  a  life  of  more  variety 
and  more  communion  with  human  kind,  but  she  saw  none 


1845 


DAILY  LIFE  AT  HAWORTH  289 


for  her.  I  told  her  very  warmly  that  she  ought  not  to 
stay  at  home  ;  that  to  spend  the  next  five  years  at  home, 
in  solitude  and  weak  health,  would  ruin  her  ;  that  she 
would  never  recover  it.  Such  a  dark  shadow  came  over 
her  face  when  I  said,  ^'  Think  of  what  you'll  be  five  years 
hence  V  that  I  stopped,  and  said,  ^'  Don^t  cry,  Char- 
lotte !"  She  did  not  cry,  but  went  on  walking  up  and 
down  the  room,  and  said  in  a  little  while,  But  I  intend 
to  stay,  Polly. 

A  few  weeks  after  she  parted  from  Mary  she  gives  this 
account  of  her  days  at  Haworth  : — 

*  March  24,  1845. 

^I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  time  gets  on  at  Haworth. 
There  is  no  event  whatever  to  mark  its  progress.  One  day 
resembles  another;  and  all  have  heavy,  lifeless  physiogno- 
mies. Sunday,  baking  day,  and  Saturday  are  the  only 
ones  that  have  any  distinctive  mark.  Meantime  life  wears 
away.  I  shall  soon  be  thirty  ;  and  I  have  done  nothing  yet. 
Sometimes  I  get  melancholy  at  the  prospect  before  and  be- 
hind me.  Yet  it  is  wrong  and  foolish  to  repine.  Undoubt- 
edly my  duty  directs  me  to  stay  at  home  for  the  present. 
There  was  a  time  when  Haworth  was  a  very  pleasant  place 
to  me ;  it  is  not  so  now.  I  feel  as  if  we  were  all  buried  here. 
I  long  to  travel;  to  work  ;  to  live  a  life  of  action.  Excuse 
me,  dear,  for  troubling  you  with  my  fruitless  wishes.  I  will 
put  by  the  rest,  and  not  trouble  you  with  them.  You  must 
write  to  me.  If  you  knew  how  welcome  your  letters  are, 
you  would  write  very  often.  Your  letters,  and  the  French 
newspapers,  are  the  only  messengers  that  come  to  me  from 
the  outer  world  beyond  our  moors ;  and  very  welcome  mes- 
sengers they  are.^ 

One  of  her  daily  employments  was  to  read  to  her  father, 
and  it  required  a  little  gentle  diplomacy  on  her  part  to  effect 
this  duty  ;  for  there  were  times  when  the  offer  of  another  to 
do  what  he  had  been  so  long  accustomed  to  do  for  himself 
only  reminded  him  too  painfully  of  the  deprivation  under 
19 


290  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


which  he  was  suffering.  And,  in  secret,  she,  too,  dreaded  a 
similar  loss  for  herself.  Long-continued  ill-health,  a  de- 
ranged condition  of  the  liver,  her  close  application  to  mi- 

\  nute  drawing  and  writing  in  her  younger  days,  her  now 
habitual  sleeplessness  at  nights,  the  many  bitter  noiseless 
tears  she  had  shed  over  BranwelFs  mysterious  and  dis- 

ytressing  conduct — all  these  causes  were  telling  on  her  poor 
eyes;  and  about  this  time  she  thus  writer  to  M.  Heger  : — 

^11  n^y  a  rien  que  je  crains  comme  le  desoeuvrement, 
Finertie,  la  lethargic  des  facultes.  Quand  le  corps  est 
paresseux  Fesprit  souffre  cruellement ;  je  ne  connaitrais  pas 
cette  lethargic  si  je  pouvais  ecrire.  Autrefois  je  passais  des 
journees,  des  semaines,  des  mois  entiers  a  ecrire,  et  pas  tout 
a  fait  sans  fruit,  puisque  Southey  et  Coleridge,  deux  de  nos 
meilleurs  auteurs,  a  qui  j'ai  envoye  certains  manuscrits,  en 
ont  bien  voulu  temoigner  leur  approbation;  mais  a  present 
j^ai  la  vue  trop  faible  ;  si  j^ecrivais  beaucoup  je  deviendrais 
aveugle.  Cette  faiblesse  de  vue  est  pour  moi  une  terrible 
privation;  sans  cela  savez-vous  ce  que  je  ferais,  monsieur? 
J'ecrirais  un  livre  et  je  le  dedierais  a  mon  maitre  de  littera- 
ture,  au  seul  maitre  que  j'aie  jamais  eu — a  vous,  monsieur! 
Je  vous  ai  dit  souvent  en  frangais  combien  je  vous  respecte, 
combien  je  suis  redeuable  a  votre  bonte,  a  vos  conseils. 
Je  voudrais  le  dire  une  f ois  en  anglais.  Cela  ne  se  pent  pas ; 
il  ne  faut  pas  y  penser.  La  carri^re  des  lettres  m^est  fer- 
mee.  .  .  .  N'oubliez  pas  de  me  dire  comment  vous  vous  por- 
tez,  comment  madame  et  les  enfants  se  portent.  Je  compte 
bientot  avoir  de  vos  nouvelles ;  cette  idee  me  souris,  car  le 
souvenir  de  vos  bontes  ne  s'effacera  jamais  de  ma  memoire, 
et  tant  que  ce  souvenir  durera  le  respect  que  vous  m^avez 
inspire  durera  aussi.    Agreez,  monsieur,^  &c. 

It  is  probable  that  even  her  sisters  and  most  intimate 
friends  did  not  know  of  this  dread  of  ultimate  blindness 
which  beset  her  at  this  period.  What  eyesight  she  had  to 
spare  she  reserved  for  the  use  of  her  father.    She  did  but 


1845 


LETTER  TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 


291 


little  plain-sewing ;  not  more  writing  than  could  be  avoided^ 
and  employed  herself  principally  in  knitting. 

•April  2, 1845. 

^  I  see  plainly  it  is  proved  to  us  that  there  is  scarcely  a 
draught  of  unmingled  happiness  to  be  had  in  this  world. 
George^s^  illness  comes  with  Mary^s  marriage.  Mary  Tay- 
lor finds  herself  free/ and  on  that  path  to  adventure  and 
exertion  to  which  she  has  so  long  been  seeking  admission. 
Sickness,  hardship,  danger  are  her  fellow-travellers — her 
inseparable  companions.  She  may  have  been  out  of  the 
reach  of  these  S.W.N.W.  gales,  before  they  began  to 
blow,  or  they  may  have  spent  their  fury  on  land,  and  not 
ruffled  the  sea  much.  If  it  has  been  otherwise  she  has 
been  sorely  tossed,  while  we  have  been  sleeping  in  our 
beds,  or  lying  awake  thinking  about  her.  Yet  these  real, 
material  dangers,  when  once  past,  leave  in  the  mind  the  sat- 
isfaction of  having  struggled  with  difficulty,  and  overcome 
it.  Strength,  courage,  and  experience  are  their  invariable 
results ;  whereas  I  doubt  whether  suffering  purely  mental 
has  any  good  result,  unless  it  be  to  make  us  by  comparison 
less  sensitive  to  physical  suffering.'*  .  .  .  Ten  years  ago  I 
should  have  laughed  at  your  account  of  the  blunder  you 
made  in  mistaking  the  bachelor  doctor  of  Burlington  for  a 
married  man.  I  should  have  certainly  thought  you  scru- 
pulous overmuch,  and  wondered  how  you  could  possibly 
regret  being  civil  to  a  decent  individual,  merely  because  he 
happened  to  be  single,  instead  of  double.  Now,  however, 
I  can  perceive  that  your  scruples  are  founded  on  common 
sense.  I  know  that  if  women  wish  to  escape  the  stigma  of 
husband-seeking  they  must  act  and  look  like  marble  or 

^  George  Nussey  is  meaut.  The  letter  is  to  his  sister.  I  do  not 
know  who  the  Mary  is,  probably  '  M.  A.  Ash  well, '  a  friend  of  Ellen 
Nussey's. 

^  The  omitted  passage  runs : — 

'  I  repeat,  then,  Mary  Taylor  has  done  well  to  go  to  New  Zealand, 
but  I  wish  we  could  soon  have  another  letter  from  her.  I  hope  she 
may  write  soon  from  Madeira.* 


292  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


clay — cold,  expressionless,  bloodless  ;  for  every  appearance 
of  feeling,  of  joy,  sorrow,  friendliness,  antipathy,  admira- 
tion, disgust,  are  alike  construed  by  the  world  into  the 
attempt  to  hook  a  husband.  Never  mind !  well-meaning 
women  have  their  own  consciences  to  comfort  them  after 
all.  Do  not,  therefore,  be  too  much  afraid  of  showing 
yourself  as  you  are,  affectionate  and  good-hearted ;  do  not 
too  harshly  repress  sentiments  and  feelings  excellent  in 
themselves,  because  you  fear  that  some  puppy  may  fancy 
that  you  are  letting  them  come  out  to  fascinate  him  ;  do 
not  condemn  yourself  to  live  only  by  halves,  because  if  you 
showed  too  much  animation  some  pragmatical  thing  in 
breeches  might  take  it  into  his  pate  to  imagine  that  you 
designed  to  dedicate  your  life  to  his  inanity.  Still,  a  com- 
posed, decent,  equable  deportment  is  a  capital  treasure  to 
a  woman,  and  that  you  possess.  Write  again  soon,  for  I 
feel  rather  fierce  and  want  stroking  down.'' 

*  June  13, 1845. 

^  As  to  the  Mrs.  P  ,  who,  you  say,  is  like  me,  I  some- 
how feel  no  leaning  to  her  at  all.  I  never  do  to  people 
who  are  said  to  be  like  me,  because  I  have  always  a  notion 
that  they  are  only  like  me  in  the  disagreeable,  outside, 
first-acquaintance  part  of  my  character ;  in  those  points 
which  are  obvious  to  the  ordinary  run  of  people,  and 
which  I  know  are  not  pleasing.  You  say  she  is  clever 
— a  clever  person."  How  I  dislike  the  term  !  It  means 
rather  a  shrewd,  very  ugly,  meddling,  talking  woman.  .  .  . 
I  feel  reluctant  to  leave  papa  for  a  single  day.  His  sight 
diminishes  weekly ;  and  can  it  be  wondered  at  that,  as  he 
sees  the  most  precious  of  his  faculties  leaving  him,  his 
spirits  sometimes  sink  ?  It  is  so  hard  to  feel  that  his  few 
and  scanty  pleasures  must  all  soon  go.  He  has  now  the 
greatest  difficulty  in  either  reading  or  writing  ;  and  then 
he  dreads  the  state  of  dependence  to  which  blindness  will 
inevitably  reduce  him.  He  fears  that  he  will  be  nothing 
in  his  parish.  I  try  to  cheer  him  ;  sometimes  I  succeed 
temporarily,  but  no  consolation  can  restore  his  sight,  or 


1845 


HER  OPINION  OF  CURATES 


293 


atone  for  the  want  of  it.  Still  he  is  never  peevish  ;  never 
impatient ;  only  anxious  and  dejected/ 

For  the  reason  just  given  Charlotte  declined  an  invita- 
tion to  the  only  house  to  which  she  was  now  ever  asked  to 
come.  In  answer  to  her  correspondent's  reply  to  this  let- 
ter she  says^  — 

'You  thought  I  refused  you  coldly,  did  you  ?  It  was  a 
queer  sort  of  coldness,  when  I  would  have  given  my  ears  to 
say  Yes,  and  was  obliged  to  say  No.  Matters,  however, 
are  now  a  little  changed.  Anne  is  come  home,  and  her 
presence  certainly  makes  me  feel  more  at  liberty.  Then, 
if  all  be  well,  I  will  come  and  see  you'  (at  Hathersage). 
'  Tell  me  only  when  I  must  come.  Mention  the  week  and 
the  day.  Have  the  kindness  also  to  answer  the  following 
queries,  if  you  can.  How  far  is  it  from  Leeds  to  Sheffield? 
Can  you  give  me  a  notion  of  the  cost  ?  Of  course,  when  I 
come,  you  will  let  me  enjoy  your  own  company  in  peace, 
and  not  drag  me  out  a-visiting.  I  have  no  desire  at  all  to 
see  your  curate.  I  think  he  must  be  like  all  the  other 
curates  I  have  seen ;  and  they  seem  to  me  a  self-seeking, 
vain,  empty  race.  At  this  blessed  moment  we  have  no  less 
than  three  of  them  in  Haworth  Parish — and  there  is  not 
one  to  mend  another.  The  other  day  they  all  three,  ac- 
companied by  Mr.  Smith,  of  whom,  by  the  way,  I  have 
grievous  things  to  tell  you,  dropped,  or  rather  rushed,  in 
unexpectedly  to  tea.  It  was  Monday  (baking  day),  and  I 
was  hot  and  tired ;  still,  if  they  had  behaved  quietly  and 
decently,  I  would  have  served  them  out  their  tea  in  peace ; 
but  they  began  gloryfying  themselves  and  abusing  Dis- 
senters in  such  a  manner  that  my  temper  lost  its  balance, 
and  I  pronounced  a  few  sentences  sharply  and  rapidly, 
which  struck  them  all  dumb.  Papa  was  greatly  horrified 
also,  but  I  don't  regret  it.' 

^  Letter  to  Ellen  Nussey  dated  June  5,  1845,  and  addressed  to 
Hathersage. 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


On  her  returu  from  this  short  visit  to  her  friend*  she 
travelled  with  a  gentleman  in  the  railway  carriage,  whose 
features  and  bearing  betrayed  him,  in  a  moment,  to  be  a 
Frenchman.  She  ventured  to  ask  him  if  such  was  not 
the  case ;  and,  on  his  admitting  it,  she  further  inquired  if 
he  had  not  passed  a  considerable  time  in  Germany,  and  was 
answered  that  he  had ;  her  quick  ear  detected  something  of 
the  thick,  guttural  pronunciation  which,  Frenchmen  say, 
they  are  able  to  discover  even  in  the  grandchildren  of  their 
countrymen  who  have  lived  any  time  beyond  the  Rhine. 
Charlotte  had  retained  her  skill  in  the  language  by  the  habit 
of  which  she  thus  speaks  to  M.  Heger : — 

^  Je  crains  beaucoup  d'oublier  le  frangais  —  j'apprends 
tons  les  jours  une  demi-page  de  frangais  par  coeur,  et  j^ai 
grand  plaisir  a  apprendre  cette  legon.  Veuillez-  presenter  a 
madame  Fassurance  de  mon  estime ;  je  crains  que  Marie- 
Louise  et  Claire  ne  m'aient  deja  oubliee ;  mais  je  vous  re- 
verrai  un  jour ;  aussitot  que  j'aurai  gagne  assez  d^argent 
pour  aller  a  Bruxelles,  j'y  irai.^ 

And  so  her  journey  back  to  Ha  worth,  after  the  rare 
pleasure  of  this  visit  to  her  friend,  was  pleasantly  beguiled 
by  conversation  with  the  French  gentleman ;  and  she  ar- 
rived at  home  refreshed  and  happy.    What  to  find  there  ? 

It  was  ten  o^clock  when  she  reached  the  parsonage. 
Branwell  was  there,  unexpectedly,  very  ill.    He  had  come 

*  This  was  a  three  weeks'  visit  to  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Nus- 
sey,  who  had  just  become  Vicar  of  Hathersage,  in  Derbyshire,  and 
was  on  his  honeymoon  at  the  time  that  his  sister  Ellen  and  Charlotte 
Bronte  stayed  at  his  house.  Charlotte's  only  visit  to  Hathersage  is 
noteworthy  because  in  Hathersage  Church  are  the  tombs  of  Robert 
Eyre,  who  fought  at  Agincourt  and  died  in  1459,  and  Joan,  his  wife, 
who  died  in  1464.  I  have  already  suggested  that  the  only  *  Jane '  in 
the  Bronte  story  was  associated  with  school  days  at  Cowan  Bridge, 
but  it  is  not  difficult  to  believe  that  Joan  Eyre,  wife  of  the  old  armour- 
clad  warrior,  suggested  the  title  for  Miss  Bronte's  most  famous  book. 
In  Hathersage  churchyard  the  grave  of  Robin  Hood's  comrade,  *  Lit- 
tle John,'  is  shown,  10  feet  6  inches  long. 


1845 


SORE  TRIALS 


295 


home  a  day  or  two  before,  apparently  for  a  holiday ;  in 
reality,  I  imagine,  because  some  discovery  had  been  made 
which  rendered  his  absence  imperatively  desirable.  The 
day  of  Charlotte's  return  he  had  received  a  letter  from  Mr. 
(Robinson),  sternly  dismissing  him,  intimating  that  his  pro- 
ceedings were  discovered,  characterising  them  as  bad  be- 
yond expression,  and  charging  him,  on  pain  of  exposure,  to 
break  off  immediately,  and  for  ever,  all  communication 
with  every  member  of  the  family. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  nature  and  depth  of  Bran- 
welFs  sins — whatever  may  have  been  his  temptation,  what- 
ever his  guilt— there  is  no  doubt  of  the  suffering  which  his 
conduct  entailed  upon  his  poor  father  and  his  innocent 
sisters.  The  hopes  and  plans  they  had  cherished  long,  and 
laboured  hard  to  fulfil,  were  cruelly  frustrated  ;  hencefor- 
ward their  days  were  embittered  and  the  natural  rest  of 
their  nights  destroyed  by  his  paroxysms  of  remorse.  Let 
us  read  of  the  misery  caused  to  his  poor  sisters  in  Char- 
lotte's own  affecting  words  :^ — 

^  We  have  had  sad  work  with  BranwelL  He  thought  of 
nothing  but  stunning  or  drowning  his  agony  of  mind.  No 
one  in  this  house  could  have  rest;  and,  at  last,  we  have 
been  obliged  to  send  him  from  home  for  a  week,  with  some 
one  to  look  after  him.  He  has  written  to  me  this  morn- 
ing, expressing  some  sense  of  contrition  .  .  .  but  as  long 
as  he  remains  at  home  I  scarce  dare  hope  for  peace  in  the 
house.  We  must  all,  I  fear,  prepare  for  a  season  of  distress 
and  disquietude.  When  I  left  you  I  was  strongly  impressed 
with  the  feeling  that  I  was  going  back  to  sorrow.' 

*  August  1845. 

^Things  here  at  home  are  much  as  usual ;  not  very  bright 
as  regards  Branwell,  though  his  health,  and  consequently 
his  temper,  have  been  somewhat  better  this  last  day  or 
two^  because  he  is  no^  forced  to  abstain.' 

*  Extracted  from  various  letters  to  Ellen  Nussey. 


296 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


'  August  18,  1845. 
^  I  have  delayed  writing,  because  I  have  no  good  news  to 
communicate.  My  hopes  ebb  low  indeed  about  Branwell. 
I  sometimes  fear  he  will  never  be  fit  for  much.  The  late 
blow  to  his  prospects  and  feelings  has  quite  made  him  reck- 
less. It  is  only  absolute  want  of  means  that  acts  as  any 
check  to  him.  One  ought,  indeed,  to  hope  to  the  very  last; 
and  I  try  to  do  so,  but  occasionally  hope  in  his  case  seems 
so  fallacious.' 

*  November  4,  1845. 
^I  hoped  to  be  able  to  ask  you  to  come  to  Haworth.  It 

almost  seemed  as  if  Branwell  had  a  chance  of  getting 
employment,  and  I  waited  to  know  the  result  of  his  efforts, 
in  order  to  say,  Dear  Ellen,  come  and  see  us.''  But  the 
place  (a  secretaryship  to  a  railway  committee)  is  given  to 
another  person.  Branwell  still  remains  at  home ;  and  while 
he  is  here  you  shall  not  come.  I  am  more  confirmed  in  that 
resolution  the  more  I  see  of  him.  I  wish  I  could  say  one 
word  to  you  in  his  favor,  but  I  cannot.  I  will  hold  my 
tongue.  We  are  all  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  suggestion 
about  Leeds ;  but  I  think  our  school  schemes  are,  for  the 
present,  at  rest.' 

*  December  31,  1845. 

'  You  say  well,  in  speaking  of  (Branwell),  that  no  suffer- 
ings are  so  awful  as  those  brought  on  by  dissipation  ;  alas ! 

I  see  the  truth  of  this  observation  daily  proved.   and 

 must  have  as  weary  and  burdensome  a  life  of  it  in 

waiting  upon  their  unhappy  brother.  It  seems  grievous, 
indeed,  that  those  who  have  not  sinned  should  suffer  so 
largely.' 

In  fact,  all  their  latter  days  blighted  with  the  presence 
of  cruel,  shameful  suffering — the  premature  deaths  of  two 
at  least  of  the  sisters — all  the  great  possibilities  of  their 
earthly  lives  snapped  short — may  be  dated  from  midsum- 
mer 1845. 

For  the  last  three  years  of  Bran  well's  life  he  took  opium 


1845 


A  TIME  OF  TROUBLE 


297 


habitually,  by  way  of  stunning  conscience  ;  he  drank,  more- 
over, whenever  he  could  get  the  opportunity.  The  reader 
may  say  that  I  have  mentioned  his  tendency  to  intemperance 
long  before.  It  is  true  ;  but  it  did  not  become  habitual,  as 
far  as  I  can  learn,  until  after  he  was  dismissed  from  his 
tutorship.  He  took  opium,  because  it  made  him  forget  for  a 
time  more  effectually  than  drink ;  and,  besides,  it  was  more 
portable.  In  procuring  it  he  showed  all  the  cunning  of 
the  opium-eater.  He  would  steal  out  while  the  family 
were  at  church — to  which  he  had  professed  himself  too  ill 
to  go — and  manage  to  cajole  the  village  druggist  out  of 
a  lump  ;  or,  it  might  be,  the  carrier  had  unsuspiciously 
brought  him  some  in  a  packet  from  a  distance.  For  some 
time  before  his  death  he  had  attacks  of  delirium  tremens 
of  the  most  frightful  character ;  he  slept  in  his  father's 
room,  and  he  would  sometimes  declare  that  either  he  or 
his  father  would  be  dead  before  the  morning.  The  trem- 
bling sisters,  sick  with  fright,  would  implore  their  father 
not  to  expose  himself  to  this  danger  ;  but  Mr.  Bronte  is 
no  timid  man,  and  perhaps  he  felt  that  he  could  possibly 
influence  his  son  to  some  self-restraint,  more  by  showing 
trust  in  him  than  by  showing  fear.  The  sisters  often  lis- 
tened for  the  report  of  a  pistol  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  till 
watchful  eye  and  hearkening  ear  grew  heavy  and  dull  with 
the  perpetual  strain  upon  their  nerves.  In  the  mornings 
young  Bronte  would  saunter  out,  saying,  with  a  drunk- 
ard's incontinence  of  speech,  ^The  poor  old  man  and  I  have 
had  a  terrible  night  of  it ;  he  does  his  best — the  poor  old 
man  !  but  it's  all  over  with  me/ 


CHAPTER  XIV 


Ii^  the  course  of  this  sad  autumn  of  1845  a  new  interest 
came  up  ;  faint^  indeed,  and  often  lost  sight  of  in  the  vivid 
pain  and  constant  pressure  of  anxiety  respecting  their 
brother.  In  the  biographical  notice  of  her  sisters,  which 
Charlotte  prefixed  to  the  edition  of  ^Wuthering  Heights  ^ 
and  ^ Agnes  Grey'  published  in  1850 — a  piece  of  writing 
unique,  as  far  as  I  know,  in  its  pathos  and  its  power — she 
says — 

'  One  day  in  the  autumn  of  1845  I  accidentally  lighted 
on  a  MS.  volume  of  verse,  in  my  sister  Emily's  handwrit- 
ing. Of  course  I  was  not  surprised,  knowing  that  she 
could  and  did  write  verse.  I  looked  it  over,  and  some- 
thing more  than  surprise  seized  me  —  a  deep  conviction 
that  these  were  not  common  effusions,  nor  at  all  like  the 
poetry  women  generally  write.  I  thought  them  condensed 
and  terse,  vigorous  and  genuine.  To  my  ear  they  had 
also  a  peculiar  music,  wild,  melancholy,  and  elevating. 
My  sister  Emily  was  not  a  person  of  demonstrative  char- 
acter, nor  one  on  the  recesses  of  whose  mind  and  feelings 
even  those  nearest  and  dearest  to  her  could,  with  impunity, 
intrude  unlicensed  :  it  took  hours  to  reconcile  her  to  the 
discovery  I  had  made,  and  days  tp  persuade  her  that  such 
poems  merited  publication.  .  .  .'[  Meantime  my  younger 
sister  quietly  produced  some  of  her  own  compositions,  in- 
timating that  since  Emily's  had  given  me  pleasure  I  might 
like  to  look  at  hers.  I  could  not  but  be  a  partial  judge, 
yet  I  thought  that  these  verses  too  had  a  sweet,  sincere 
pathos  of  their  own.  We  had  very  early  cherished  the 
dream  of  one  day  being  authors.  ...  We  agreed  to  arrange 


1845 


THE  SISTERS'  POEMS 


299 


a  small  selection  of  our  poems,  and,  if  possible,  get  them 
printed.  Averse  to  personal  publicity,  we  veiled  our  own 
names  under  those  of  Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton  Bell ;  the 
ambiguous  choice  being  dictated  by  a  sort  of  conscientious 
scruple  at  assuming  Christian  names  positively  masculine, 
while  we  did  not  like  to  declare  ourselves  women,  because 
— without  at  the  time  suspecting  that  our  mode  of  writing 
and  thinking  was  not  what  is  called  feminine  " — we  had 
a  vague  impression  that  authoresses  are  liable  to  be  looked 
on  with  prejudice  ;  we  noticed  how  critics  sometimes  used 
for  their  chastisement  the  weapon  of  personality,  and  for 
their  reward  a  flattery  which  is  not  true  praise.  The  bring- 
ing out  of  our  little  book  was  hard  work,  j  As  was  to  be 
expected,  neither  we  nor  our  poems  were  at  all  wanted  ; 
but  for  this  we  had  been  prepared  at  the  outset  ;  though 
inexperienced  ourselves,  we  had  read  of  the  experience  of 
others.  The  great  puzzle  lay  in  the  difficulty  of  getting 
answers  of  any  kind  from  the  publishers  to  whom  we  ap- 
plied. Being  greatly  harassed  by  this  obstacle,  I  ventured 
to  apply  to  the  Messrs.  Chambers,  of  Edinburgh,  for  a 
word  of  advice  ;  they  may  have  forgotten  the  circumstance, 
but  /  have  not,  for  from  them  I  received  a  brief  and 
business-like,  but  civil  and  sensible  reply,  on  which  we 
acted,  and  at  last  made  way.^ 

I  inquired  from  Mr.  Robert  Chambers,  and  found,  as 
Miss  Bronte  conjectured,  that  he  had  entirely  forgotten 
the  application  which  had  been  made  to  him  and  his 
brother  for  advice ;  nor  had  they  any  copy  or  memoran- 
dum of  the  correspondence. 

There  is  an  intelligent  man  living  in  Haworth  ^  who  has 

*  Mr.  Greenwood,  who  died  at  Haworth  in  1863.  He  lived  in  the 
middle  of  the  Town  Gate,  about  halfway  up  the  street  on  the  right- 
hand  side.  An  accident  in  his  youth  caused  him  to  appear  somewhat 
deformed,  one  shoulder  being  higher  than  the  other.  The  inscription 
on  his  tomb  in  Haworth  churchyard  runs  as  follows  : — 

*  In  loving  remembrance  of  John  Greenwood,  of  Haworth,  who 
died  March  25,  1863,  aged  56  years.* 


300  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


given  me  some  interesting  particulars  relating  to  the  sisters 
about  this  period.    He  says — 

^  I  have  known  Miss  Bronte  as  Miss  Bronte  a  long  time ; 
indeed,  ever  since  they  came  to  Haworth  in  1819.  But  I 
had  not  much  acquaintance  with  the  family  till  about 
1843,  when  I  began  to  do  a  little  in  the  stationery  line. 
Nothing  of  that  kind  could  be  had  nearer  than  Keighley 
before  I  began.  They  used  to  buy  a  great  deal  of  writing- 
paper,  and  I  used  to  wonder  whatever  they  did  with  so  much. 
I  sometimes  thought  they  contributed  to  the  magazines. 
When  I  was  out  of  stock  I  was  always  afraid  of  their  com- 
ing ;'  they  seemed  so  distressed  about  it  if  I  had  none.  I 
have  walked  to  Halifax  (a  distance  of  ten  miles)  many  a 
time  for  half  a  ream  of  paper,  for  fear  of  being  without  it 
when  they  came.  I  could  not  buy  more  at  a  time  for  want 
of  capital.  I  was  always  short  of  that.  I  did  so  like  them 
to  come  when  I  had  anything  for  them  ;  they  were  so  much 
different  to  anybody  else  ;  so  gentle  and  kind,  and  so  very 
quiet.  They  never  talked  much.  Charlotte  sometimes 
would  sit  and  inquire  about  our  circumstances  so  kindly 
and  feelingly  !  .  .  .  Though  I  am  a  poor  working  man 
(which  I  have  never  felt  to  be  any  degradation),  I  could 
talk  with  her  with  the  greatest  freedom.  I  always  felt  quite 
at  home  with  her.  Though  I  never  had  any  school  educa- 
tion, I  never  felt  the  want  of  it  in  her  company.' 

The  publishers  to  whom  she  finally  made  a  successful 
application  for  the  production  of  ^Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton 
BelFs  poems '  were  Messrs.  Aylott  &  Jones,  Paternoster 
Row.*    Mr.  Aylott  has  kindly  placed  at  my  disposal  the 

^  Aylott  and  Jones  were  two  young  booksellers  and  stationers  of  8 
Paternoster  Row,  who  published  scarcely  any  books,  but  whose  nanae 
will  always  be  associated  with  two  volumes  now  of  considerable  value 
in  the  eyes  of  collectors — Poeim,  by  Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton  Bell,  a 
copy  of  which  was  sold  at  Sotheby's  in  1899  for  18^. ,  and  The  Gem  : 
Thoughts  towards  Nature  in  Poetry,  Literature,  and  Art,  the  latter 


1S46 


THE  SISTERS'  POEMS 


301 


letters  which  she  wrote  to  them  on  the  subject.^  The  first 
is  dated  January  28,  1846,  and  in  it  she  inquires  if  they 
will  publish  one  volume  octavo  of  poems  ;  if  not  at  their 
own  risk,  on  the  author's  account.  It  is  signed  '^C.  Bronte/ 
They  must  have  replied  pretty  speedily,  for  on  January  31 
she  writes  again — 

'  Gentlemen, — Since  you  agree  to  undertake  the  publi- 
cation of  the  work  respecting  which  I  applied  to  you,  I 
should  wish  now  to  know,  as  soon  as  possible,  the  cost  of 
paper  and  printing.  I  will  then  send  the  necessary  remit- 
tance, together  with  the  manuscript.  I  should  like  it  to  be 
printed  in  one  octavo  volume,  of  the  same  quality  of  paper 
and  size  of  type  as  Moxon's  last  edition  of  Wordsworth. 
The  poems  will  occupy,  I  should  think,  from  200  to  250 
pages.  They  are  not  the  production  of  a  clergyman,  nor 
are  they  exclusively  of  a  religious  character  ;  but  I  presume 
these  circumstances  will  be  imrhaterial.  It  will,  perhaps, 
be  necessary  that  you  should  see  the  manuscript,  in  order 
to  calculate  accurately  the  expense  of  publication;  in  that 
case  I  will  send  it  immediately.  I  should  like,  however, 
previously  to  have  some  idea  of  the  probable  cost ;  and  if, 
from  what  I  have  said,  you  can  make  a  rough  calculation 
on  the  subject,  I  should  be  greatly  obliged  to  you.^ 

In  her  next  letter,  February  6,  she  says — 

^  You  will  perceive  that  the  poems  are  the  work  of  three 
persons,  relatives  ;  their  separate  pieces  are  distinguished 
by  their  respective  signatures.^ 

She  writes  again  on  February  15,  and  on  the  16th  she 
says — 

issued  on  commission  for  D.  G.  Rossetti  and  his  Pre-Raphaelite  col- 
leagues, a  copy  of  which  now  sells  for  from  ten  pounds  to  twenty 
pounds. 

^  The  originals  of  these  letters  are  now  in  the  collection  brought  to- 
gether by  the  late  Mr.  Alfred  Morrison.  There  are  some  few  letters 
not  printed  by  Mrs.  Gaskell,  but  they  are  immaterial. 


302  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


^  The  MS.  will  certainly  form  a  thinner  volume  than  I 
had  anticipated.  I  cannot  name  another  model  which  I 
should  like  it  precisely  to  resemble,  yet  I  think  a  duodeci- 
mo form,  and  a  somewhat  reduced,  though  still  clear  type, 
would  be  preferable.  I  only  stipulate  for  clear  type,  not 
too  small,  and  good  paper.^ 

On  February  21  she  selects  the  ^long  primer  type'  for 
the  poems,  and  will  remit  31Z.  10s.  in  a  few  days. 

Minute  as  the  details  conveyed  in  these  notes  are,  they 
are  not  trivial,  because  they  afford  such  strong  indications 
of  character.  If  the  volume  was  to  be  published  at  their 
own  risk,  it  was  necessary  that  the  sister  conducting  the 
negotiation  should  make  herself  acquainted  with  the  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  type  and  the  various  sizes  of  books.  Ac- 
cordingly she  bought  a  small  volume,  from  which  to  learn 
all  she  could  on  the  subject  of  preparation  for  the  press. 
No  half-knowledge — no  trusting  to  other  people  for  deci- 
sions which  she  could  make  for  herself  ;  and  yet  a  generous 
and  full  confidence,  not  misplaced,  in  the  thorough  probity 
of  Messrs.  Aylott  &  Jones.  The  caution  in  ascertaining 
the  risk  before  embarking  in  the  enterprise,  and  the  prompt 
payment  of  the  money  required,  even  before  it  could  be 
said  to  have  assumed  the  shape  of  a  debt,  were  both  parts 
of  a  self-reliant  and  independent  character.  Self-contained 
also  was  she.  During  the  whole  time  that  the  volume  of 
poems  was  in  the  course  of  preparation  and  publication  no 
word  was  written  telling  any  one,  out  of  the  household  cir- 
cle, what  was  in  progress.  ^ 

^  The  title-page  ran  as  follows :  *  Poems  by  Gurrer,  Ellis,  d  Acton 
Bell.  London  :  Aylott  &  Jones,  8  Paternoster  Bow,  1846. '  Two  years 
later  the  unbound  copies  were  issued  with  a  title-page  bearing  the  im- 
print of  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.,  and  the  same  date,  1846,  although  it  is 
clear  that  the  sheets  could  not  have  been  taken  over  by  Smith,  Elder, 
&  Co.  until  1848.  The  edition  with  the  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.  title-page 
has  an  advertisement  of  the  third  edition  of  Jane  Eyre,  of  the  second 
edition  of  The  Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall,  and  of  the  first  edition  of 


1846 


LETTER  TO  MISS  WOOLER 


303 


I  have  had  some  of  the  letters  placed  in  my  hands  which 
she  addressed  to  her  old  schoolmistress.  Miss  Wooler. 
They  begin  a  little  before  this  time.  Acting  on  the  con- 
viction^ which  I  have  all  along  entertained,  that  where 
Charlotte  Bronte^s  own  words  could  be  used  no  others 
ought  to  take  their  place,  I  shall  make  extracts  from  this 
series,  according  to  their  dates. 

*  January  30,  1846. 

^  My  dear  Miss  Wooler, — I  have  not  yet  paid  my  visit  to 
B(irstall) ;  it  is,  indeed,  more  than  a  year  since  I  was  there, 

Wuthering  Reights.  Wildfell  Hall  was  not  in  its  second  edition  until 
1848.    The  question  is  set  at  rest  by  the  two  following  letters  : — 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ. 

'  September  7,  1848. 
*  My  dear  Sir,— You  are  probably  aware  that  C,  E.,  and  A.  Bell 
published,  a  year  or  two  since,  a  volum<j  of  Poems  which,  not  being 
largely  advertised,  had  but  a  limited  sale.  I  wished  much  to  ask  your 
advice  about  the  disposal  of  the  remaining  copies,  when  in  London, 
but  was  withheld  by  the  consciousness  that  "  the  Trade  "  are  not  very 
fond  of  hearing  about  Poetry,  and  that  it  is  but  too  often  a  profitless 
encumbrance  on  the  shelves  of  the  bookseller's  shop.  I  received  to- 
day, however,  the  enclosed  note  from  Messrs.  Aylott  and  Jones,  which 
I  transmit  to  you  for  your  consideration. 

*  Awaiting  your  answer, 

*  I  remain,  my  dear  Sir, 

*  Yours  sincerely, 

'  C.  Bronte.' 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ. 

*  December  7,  1848. 
*My  dear  Sir, — I  have  received  to-day  the  sum  of  24^.  Os.  6cZ.,  paid 

by  you  to  Messrs.  Aylott  and  Jones  for  Bell's  Poems.  For  this  I 
thank  you,  and  beg  again  to  express  a  hope  that  the  transaction  may 
not  in  the  end  prove  disadvantageous  to  you. 

'  Allow  me  to  mention  that  my  father,  as  well  as  my  sisters  and  my- 
self, have  derived  great  pleasure  from  some  of  the  books  you  sent ;  he 
is  now  reading  Sorrow's  Bible  in  Spain  with  interest,  and  under  pres- 
ent circumstances  whatever  agreeably  occupies  his  mind  must  be  truly 
beneficial. 

*  Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir, 

*  Yours  sincerely, 

*C.  BrontS/ 


304 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


but  I  frequently  hear  from  Ellen,  and  she  did  not  fail 
to  tell  me  that  you  were  gone  into  Worcestershire ;  she 
was  unable,  however,  to  give  me  your  exact  address.  Had 
I  known  it  I  should  have  written  to  you  long  since.  I 
thought  you  would  wonder  how  we  were  getting  on,  when 
you  heard  of  the  railway  panic  ;  and  you  may  be  sure  that 
I  am  very  glad  to  be  able  to  answer  your  kind  inquiries  by 
an  assurance  that  our  small  capital  is  as  yet  undiminished. 
The  York  and  Midland  is,  as  you  say,  a  very  good  line ; 
yet,  I  confess  to  you,  I  should  wish,  for  my  own  part,  to  be 
wise  in  time.  I  cannot  think  that  even  the  very  best  lines 
will  continue  for  many  years  at  their  present  premiums ; 
and  I  have  been  most  anxious  for  us  to  sell  our  shares  ere 
it  be  too  late,  and  to  secure  the  proceeds  in  some  safer,  if, 
for  the  present,  less  profitable  investment.  I  cannot,  how- 
ever, persuade  my  sisters  to  regard  the  affair  precisely  from 
my  point  of  view ;  and  I  feel  as  if  I  would  rather  run  the 
risk  of  loss  than  hurt  Emily^s  feelings  by  acting  in  direct 
opposition  to  her  opinion.  She  managed  in  a  most  hand- 
some and  able  manner  for  me,  when  I  was  in  Brussels,  and 
prevented  by  distance  from  looking  after  my  own  interests ; 
therefore  I  will  let  her  manage  still  and  take  the  conse- 
quences. Disinterested  and  energetic  she  certainly  is ; 
and  if  she  be  not  quite  so  tractable  or  open  to  conviction 
as  I  could  wish,  I  must  remember  perfection  is  not  the  lot 
of  humanity  ;  and  as  long  as  we  can  regard  those  we  love, 
and  to  whom  we  are  closely  allied,  with  profound  and 
never-shaken  esteem,  it  is  a  small  thing  that  they  should 
vex  us  occasionally  by  what  appear  to  us  unreasonable  and 
headstrong  notions. 

^  You,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  know,  full  as  well  as  I  do, 
the  value  of  sisters'  affection  to  each  other ;  there  is  noth- 
ing like  it  in  this  world,  I  believe,  when  they  are  nearly 
equal  in  age,  and  similar  in  education,  tastes,  and  senti- 
ments. You  ask  about  Branwell ;  he  never  thinks  of 
seeking  employment,  and  I  begin  to  fear  that  he  has 
rendered  himself  incapable  of  filling  any  respectable  sta- 


1843 


LETTER  TO  MISS  WOOLER 


305 


tion  in  life ;  besides,  if  moDey  were  at  his  disposal,  he 
would  use  it  only  to  his  own  injury  ;  the  faculty  of  self- 
government  is,  I  fear,  almost  destroyed  in  him.  You  ask 
me  if  I  do  not  think  that  men  are  strange  beings.  I 
do,  indeed.  I  have  often  thought  so  ;  and  I  think,  too, 
that  the  mode  of  bringing  them  up  is  strange  :  they  are 
not  sufficiently  guarded  from  temptation.  Girls  are  pro- 
tected as  if  they  were  something  very  frail  or  silly  indeed, 
while  boys  are  turned  loose  on  the  world,  as  if  they,  of 
all  beings  in  existence,  were  the  wisest  and  least  liable  to 
be  led  astray.  I  am  glad  you  like  Bromsgrove,  though,  I 
dare  say,  there  are  few  places  you  would  not  like  with  Mrs. 
M.  for  a  companion.  I  always  feel  a  peculiar  satisfaction 
when  I  hear  of  your  enjoying  yourself,  because  it  proves 
that  there  really  is  such  a  thing  as  retributive  justice  even 
in  this  world.  You  worked  hard  ;  you  denied  yourself  all 
pleasure,  almost  all  relaxation,  in  your  youth,  and  in  the 
prime  of  life;  now  you  are  free,  and  that  while  you  have 
still,  I  hope,  many  years  of  vigour  and  health  in  which  you 
can  enjoy  freedom.  Besides,  I  have  another  and  very  ego- 
tistical motive  for  being  pleased  ;  it  seems  that  even  a 
lone  woman  can  be  happy,  as  well  as  cherished  wives  and 
proud  mothers.  I  am  glad  of  that.  I  speculate  much  on 
the  existence  of  unmarried  and  never-to-be-married  women 
nowadays  ;  and  I  have  already  got  to  the  point  of  consider- 
ing that  there  is  no  more  respectable  character  on  this  earth 
than  an  unmarried  woman,  who  makes  her  own  way  through 
life  quietly,  perseveringly,  without  support  of  husband  or 
brother  ;  and  who.  having  attained  the  age  of  forty-five  or 
upwards,  retains  in  her  possession  a  well-regulated  mind, 
a  disposition  to  enjoy  simple  pleasures,  and  fortitude  to 
support  inevitable  pains,  sympathy  with  the  sufferings  of 
others,  aud  willingness  to  relieve  want  as  far  as  her  means 
extend.'' 

During  the  time  that  the  negotiation  with  Messrs.  Aylott 
&  Jones  was  going  on  Charlotte  went  to  visit  her  old  school 


^  306  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

friend/  with  whom  she  was  in  such  habits  of  confidential 
intimacy ;  but  neither  then  nor  afterwards  did  she  ever 
speak  to  her  of  the  publication  of  the  poems  ;  nevertheless 
this  young  lady  suspected  that  the  sisters  wrote  for  maga- 
zines ;  and  in  this  idea  she  was  confirmed  when,  on  one  of 
her  visits  to  Haworth,  she  saw  Anne  with  a  number  of 
^Chambers's  Journal/  ^  and  a  gentle  smile  of  pleasure  steal- 
ing over  her  placid  face  as  she  read. 

^What  is  the  matter?^  asked  the  friend.  ^ Why  do  you 
smile  T 

'  Only  because  I  see  they  have  inserted  one  of  my  poems/ 
was  the  quiet  reply ;  and  not  a  word  more  was  said  on  the 
subject. 

To  this  friend  Charlotte  addressed  the  following  let- 
ters  * 

*  March  3,  1846. 

reached  home  a  little  after  two  o'clock,  all  safe  and 
right  yesterday;  I  found  papa  very  well;  his  sight  much 
the  same.  Emily  and  Anne  were  going  to  Keighley  to 
meet  me ;  unfortunately  I  had  returned  by  the  old  road, 
while  they  were  gone  by  the  new,  and  we  missed  each  other. 
They  did  not  get  home  till  half-past  four,  and  were  caught 
in  the  heavy  shower  of  rain  which  fell  in  the  afternoon.  I 
am  sorry  to  say  Anne  has  taken  a  little  cold  in  consequence, 
but  I  hope  she  will  soon  be  well.  Papa  was  much  cheered 
by  my  report  of  Mr.  C.^s  opinion,  and  of  old  Mrs.  E.'s  ex- 
perience;^ but  I  could  perceive  he  caught  gladly  at  the 
idea  of  deferring  the  operation  a  few  months  longer.  I 
went  into  the  room  where  Branwell  was,  to  speak  to  him, 
about  an  hour  after  I  got  home  :  it  was  very  forced  work  to 

^  Miss  Ellen  Nussey. 

2  Chambers's  Journal  was  founded  in  1832.  The  present  editor  of 
the  Journal,  Mr.  C.  E.  S.  Chambers,  has  kindly  forwarded  to  rae  Mrs. 
Gaskell's  correspondence  with  the  firm,  and  has  endeavoured,  without 
success,  to  identify  Anne's  poem. 

*In  the  original  letter  it  runs,  *  Mr.  Carr's  opinion,  and  of  old  Mrs. 
Carr's  experience,'  but  these  identifications  are,  of  course,  quite  value- 
less. 


1846      CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  PUBLISHERS  307 


address  him.  I  might  have  spared  myself  the  trouble,  as 
he  took  no  notice  and  made  no  reply;  he  was  stupefied. 
My  fears  were  not  in  vain.  I  hear  that  he  got  a  sovereign 
while  I  have  been  away,  under  pretence  of  paying  a  press- 
ing debt ;  he  went  immediately  and  changed  it  at  a  public- 
house,  and  has  employed  it  as  was  to  be  expected.  Emily 
concluded  her  account  by  saying  he  was  a  ^'hopeless  being 
it  is  too  true.  In  his  present  state  it  is  scarcely  possible  to 
stay  in  the  room  where  he  is.  What  the  future  has  in  store 
I  do  not  know.^ 

*  March  31,  1846. 

^  Our  poor  old  servant  Tabby  had  a  sort  of  fit,  a  fortnight 
since,  but  is  nearly  recovered  now.  Martha"'  (the  girl  they 
had  to  assist  poor  old  Tabby,  and  who  remains  still  the 
faithful  servant  at  the  parsonage)  '  is  ill  with  a  swelling  in 
her  knee,  and  obliged  to  go  home.  I  fear  it  will  be  long 
before  she  is  in  working  condition  again.  I  received  the 
number  of  the  Record"'  you  sent.  .  .  .  I  read  D"Aubigne's 
letter.  It  is  clever,  and  in  what  he  says  about  Catholicism 
very  good.  The  Evangelical  Alliance  part  is  not  very 
practicable,  yet  certainly  it  is  more  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  the  Gospel  to  preach  unity  among  Christians  than 
to  inculcate  mutual  intolerance  and  hatred.  I  am  very  glad 
I  went  to  B(rookroyd)  when  I  did,  for  the  changed  weather 
has  somewhat  changed  my  health  and  strength  since.  How 
do  you  get  on?  I  long  for  mild  south  and  west  winds. 
I  am  thankful  papa  continues  pretty  well,  though  often 
made  very  miserable  by  BranwelFs  wretched  conduct.  There 
— there  is  no  change  but  for  the  worse." 

Meanwhile  the  printing  of  the  volume  of  poems  was 
quietly  proceeding.  After  some  consultation  and  deliber- 
ation the  sisters  had  determined  to  correct  the  proofs  them- 
selves. Up  to  March  28  the  publishers  had  addressed  their 
correspondent  as  ^  C.  Bronte,  Esq. but  at  this  time  some 


Martha  Brown.    See  note,  p.  57. 


308 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


'little  mistake  occurred/ and  she  desired  Messrs.  Aylott  & 
Jones  in  future  to  direct  to  her  real  address,  ^ Miss  Bronte/ 
&c.  She  had,  however,  evidently  left  it  to  be  implied  that 
she  was  not  acting  on  her  own  behalf,  but  as  agent  for  the 
real  authors,  since  in  a  note  dated  April  6  she  makes  a 
proposal  on  behalf  of  ^C,  E.,  and  A.  Bell,^  which  is  to  the 
following  effect :  that  they  are  preparing  for  the  press  a 
work  of  fiction,  consisting  of  three  distinct  and  uncon- 
nected tales,  which  may  be  published  either  together,  as  a 
work  of  three  volumes,  of  the  ordinary  novel  size,  or  sepa- 
rately, as  single  volumes,  as  may  be  deemed  most  advisable. 
She  states,  in  addition,  that  it  is  not  their  intention  to  pub- 
lish these  tales  on  their  own  account,  but  that  the  authors 
direct  her  to  ask  Messrs.  Aylott  &  Jones  whether  they 
would  be  disposed  to  undertake  the  work,  after  having,  of 
course,  by  due  inspection  of  the  MS.,  ascertained  that  its 
contents  are  such  as  to  warrant  an  expectation  of  success,  i 
To  this  letter  of  inquiry  the  publishers  replied  speedily, 
and  the  tenor  of  their  answer  may  be  gathered  from  Char- 
lotte's, dated  April  11. 

'  I  beg  to  thank  you,  in  the  name  of  0.,  E.,  and  A.  Bell, 
for  your  obliging  letter  of  advice.  I  will  avail  myself  of  it 
to  request  information  on  two  or  three  points.    It  is  evi- 

*  Here  is  the  actual  letter  : — 

*  April  6,  1846. 

'Gentlemen,— C,  E.,  and  A.  Bell  are  now  preparing  for  the  press 
a  work  of  fiction  consisting  of  three  distinct  and  unconnected  tales, 
which  may  be  published  either  together,  as  a  work  of  three  volumes, 
of  the  ordinary  novel  size,  or  separately  as  single  volumes,  as  shall 
be  deemed  most  advisable. 

'  It  is  not  their  intention  to  publish  these  tales  on  their  own  account. 
They  direct  me  to  ask  you  whether  you  would  be  disposed  to  under- 
take the  work,  after  having,  of  course,  by  due  inspection  of  the  MS., 
ascertained  that  its  contents  are  such  as  to  warrant  an  expectation  of 
success. 

*  An  early  answer  will  oblige,  as,  in  case  of  your  negativing  the  pro- 
posal, inquiry  must  be  made  of  other  publishers. — I  am,  gentlemen, 
yours  truly,  C.  BrontjB:.' 


1846 


'POEMS'  FOR  REVIEW 


309 


dent  that  unknown  authors  have  great  difficulties  to  con- 
tend with,  before  they  can  succeed  in  bringing  their  works 
before  the  public.  Can  you  give  me  any  hint  as  to  the  way 
in  which  these  difficulties  are  best  met  ?  For  instance,  in 
the  present  case,  where  a  work  of  fiction  is  in  question,  in 
what  form  would  a  publisher  be  most  likely  to  accept  the 
MS.,  whether  offered  as  a  work  of  three  vols.,  or  as  tales 
which  might  be  published  in  numbers,  or  as  contributions 
to  a  periodical  ? 

'  What  publishers  would  be  most  likely  to  receive  fa- 
vourably a  proposal  of  this  nature  ? 

^  Would  it  suffice  to  lorite  to  a  publisher  on  the  subject, 
or  would  it  be  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  a  personal  in- 
terview ? 

'  Your  opinion  and  advice  on  these  three  points,  or  on 
any  other  which  your  experience  may  suggest  as  important, 
would  be  esteemed  by  us  as  a  favour.^ 

It  is  evident  from  the  whole  tenor  of  this  correspondence 
that  the  truthfulness  and  probity  of  the  firm  of  publishers 
with  whom  she  had  to  deal  in  this  her  first  literary  vent- 
ure were  strongly  impressed  upon  her  mind,  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  inevitable  consequence  of  reliance  on  their 
suggestions.  And  the  progress  of  the  poems  was  not  un- 
reasonably lengthy  or  long  drawn  out.  On  April  20  she 
writes  to  desire  that  three  copies  may  be  sent  to  her,  and 
that  Messrs.  Aylott  &  Jones  will  advise  her  as  to  the  re- 
viewers to  whom  copies  ought  to  be  sent. 

I  give  the  next  letter  as  illustrating  the  ideas  of  these 
girls  as  to  what  periodical  reviews  or  notices  led  public 
opinion. 

^The  poems  to  be  neatly  done  up  in  cloth.  Have  the 
goodness  to  send  copies  and  advertisements,  as  early  as 
possible,  to  each  of  the  undermentioned  periodicals: — 

'  ''Colburn's  New  Monthly  Magazine. 

' Bentley's  Magazine.'' 

'    Hood's  Magazine." 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTOE  BRONTfi 


' Jerrold's  Shilling  Magazine/'' 
^    Blackwood's  Magazine/' 
' The  Edinburgh  Review/'  ^  • 
' Tait's  Edinburgh  Magazine/^ 
^    The  Dublin  University  Magazine/'* 
^Also  to  the     Daily  News"  and  to  the  Britannia" 
newspapers. 

^  If  there  are  any  other  periodicals  to  which  you  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  sending  copies  of  works,  let  them  be 
supplied  also  with  copies.  I  think  those  I  have  mentioned 
will  suffice  for  advertising/ 

In  compliance  with  this  latter  request  Messrs.  Aylott 
suggest  that  copies  and  advertisements  of  the  work  should 
be  sent  to  the  ^  Athenaeum/  ^  Literary  Gazette/  *  Critic/ 
and  ^  Times;'  but  in  her  reply  Miss  Bronte  says  that  she 
thinks  the  periodicals  she  first  mentioned  will  be  sufficient 
for  advertising  in  at  present,  as  the  authors  do  not  wish 
to  lay  out  a  larger  sum  than  two  pounds  in  advertising, 
esteeming  the  success  of  a  work  dependent  more  on  the 
notice  it  receives  from  periodicals  than  on  the  quantity  of 
advertisements.    In  case  of  any  notice  of  the  poems  ap- 

'  To  the  editor  of  the  Dublin  University  Magazine  she  wrote  on  Oc- 
tober 6,  1846,  as  follows  :— 

*  Sir,— I  thank  you  in  my  own  name  and  that  of  my  brothers,  Ellis 
and  Acton,  for  the  indulgent  notice  that  appeared  in  your  last  number 
of  our  first  humble  efforts  in  literature  ;  but  I  thank  you  far  more  for 
the  essay  on  modern  poetry  which  preceded  that  notice — an  essay  in 
which  seems  to  me  to  be  condensed  the  very  spirit  of  truth  and  beauty. 
If  all  or  half  your  other  readers  shall  have  derived  from  its  perusal 
the  delight  it  afforded  to  myself  and  my  brothers,  your  labours  have 
produced  a  rich  result. 

'  After  such  criticism  an  author  may  indeed  be  smitten  at  first  by  a 
sense  of  his  own  insignificance— as  we  were — but  on  a  second  and  a 
third  perusal  he  finds  a  power  and  beauty  therein  which  stirs  him  to  a 
desire  to  do  more  and  better  things.  It  fulfils  the  right  end  of  criti- 
cism :  without  absolutely  crushing  it  corrects  and  rouses.  I  again 
thank  you  heartily,  and  beg  to  subscribe  myself, — Your  constant  and 
grateful  reader,  Currer  Bell.' 


I 


1846 


REVIEW  IN  THE  ^ATHEN^UM'  311 


pearing,  whether  favourable  or  otherwise,  Messrs.  Aylott 
&  Jones  are  requested  to  send  her  the  name  and  number 
of  those  periodicals  in  which  such  notices  appear ;  as  other- 
wise, since  she  has  not  the  opportunity  of  seeing  period- 
icals regnlarly,  she  may  miss  reading  the  critique.  ^Should 
the  poems  be  remarked  upon  favourably,  it  is  my  inten- 
tion to  appropriate  a  further  sum  for  advertisements.  If, 
on  the  other  hand,  they  should  pass  unnoticed  or  be  con- 
demned, I  consider  it  would  be  quite  useless  to  advertise, 
as  there  is  nothing,  either  in  the  title  of  the  work  or  the 
names  of  the  authors,  to  attract  attention  from  a  single  in- 
dividual.' 

I  suppose  the  little  volume  of  poems  was  published  some 
time  about  the  end  of  May  1846.  It  stole  into  life  ;  some 
weeks  passed  over,  without  the  mighty  murmuring  public 
discovering  that  three  more  voices  were  uttering  their 
speech.  And,  meanwhile,  the  course  of  existence  moved 
drearily  along  from  day  to  day  with  the  anxious  sisters, 
who  must  have  forgotten  their  sense  of  authorship  in  the 
vital  care  gnawing  at  their  hearts.  On  June  17  Charlotte 
writes  : — 

^  Branwell  declares  that  he  neither  can  nor  will  do  any- 
thing for  himself ;  good  situations  have  been  offered  him, 
for  which,  by  a  fortnight^s  work,  he  might  have  qualified 
himself,  but  he  will  do  nothing  except  drink  and  make  us 
all  wretched.' 

In  the  ^Athenaeum '  of  July  4,  under  the  head  of  ^  Poetry 
for  the  Million,'  came  a  short  review  of  the  poems  of  C, 
E.,  and  A.  Bell.  The  reviewer  assigns  to  Ellis  the  highest 
rank  of  the  three  ^brothers,'  as  he  supposes  them  to  be;  he 
calls  Ellis  ^a  fine,  quaint  spirit;'  and  speaks  of  ^an  evident 
power  of  wing  that  may  reach  heights  not  here  attempted.' 
Again,  with  some  degree  of  penetration,  the  reviewer  says 
that  the  poems  of  Ellis  '  convey  an  impression  of  originality 
beyond  what  his  contributions  to  these  volumes  embody.' 
Currer  is  placed  midway  between  Ellis  and  Acton.  But 


312 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


there  is  little  in  the  review  to  strain  out,  at  this  distance 
of  time,  as  worth  preserving.  Still,  we  can  fancy  with  what 
interest  it  was  read  at  HaAVorth  Parsonage,  and  how  the 
sisters  would  endeavour  to  find  out  reasons  for  opinions,  or 
hints  for  the  future  guidance  of  their  talents. 

I  call  particular  attention  to  the  following  letter  of 
Charlotte's,  dated  July  10,  1  46.  To  whom  it  was  written 
matters  not;^  but  the  wholesome  sense  of  duty  in  it — the 
sense  of  the  supremacy  of  that  duty  which  God,  in  placing 
us  in  families,  has  laid  out  for  us — seems  to  deserve  especial 
regard  in  these  days  : — 

^  I  see  you  are  in  a  dilemma,  and  one  of  a  peculiar 
and  difficult  nature.  Two  paths  lie  before  you  ;  you  con- 
scientiously wish  to  choose  the  right  one,  even  though  it 
be  the  most  sfteep,  strait,  and  rugged ;  but  you  do  not 
know  which  is  the  right  one  ;  you  cannot  decide  whether 
duty  and  religion  command  you  to  go  out  into  the  cold  and 
friendless  world,  and  there  to  earn  your  living  by  governess 
drudgery,  or  whether  they  enjoin  your  continued  stay  with 
your  aged  mother,  neglecting,  for  the  present,  every  pros- 
pect of  independency  for  yourself,  and  putting  up  with 
daily  inconvenience,  sometimes  even  with  privations.  I 
can  well  imagine  that  it  is  next  to  impossible  for  you  to  de- 
cide for  yourself  in  this  matter,  so  I  will  decide  it  for  you. 
At  least  I  will  tell  you  what  is  my  earnest  conviction  on 
the  subject;  I  will  show  you  candidly  how  the  question 
strikes  me.  The  right  path  is  that  which  necessitates  the 
greatest  sacrifice  of  self-interest— which  implies  the  greatest 
good  to  others;  and  this  path,  steadily  followed,  will  lead, 
I  believe,  in  time,  to  prosperity  and  happiness,  though  it 
may  seem,  at  the  outset,  to  tend  quite  in  a  contrary  direc- 
tion. Your  mother  is  both  old  and  infirm ;  old  and  infirm 
people  have  but  few  sources  of  happiness — fewer  almost 
than  the  comparatively  young  and  healthy  can  conceive; 

'  It  was  addressed  to  Ellen  Nussey. 


1S46      CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  MR.  AYLOTT  313 


to  deprive  them  of  one  of  these  is  cruel.  If  your  mother 
is  more  composed  when  you  are  with  her,  stay  with  her.  If 
she  would  be  unhappy  in  case  you  left  her,  stay  with  her. 
It  will  not  apparently,  as  far  as  short-sighted  humanity 
can  see,  be  for  your  advantage  to  remain  at  B(rookroyd), 
nor  will  you  be  praised  and  admired  for  remaining  at 
home  to  comfort  your  mother;  yet,  probably,  your  own 
conscience  will  approve,  and  if  it  does,  stay  with  her.  I 
recommend  you  to  do  what  I  am  trying  to  do  myself.^ 

The  remainder  of  this  letter  is  only  interesting  to  the 
reader  as  it  conveys  a  peremptory  disclaimer  of  the  report 
that  the  writer  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  her  father's 
curate — the  very  same  gentleman  to  whom,  eight  years  af- 
terwards, she  was  united  ;  ^  and  who,  probably,  even  now, 
although  she  was  unconscious  of  the  fact,  had  begun  his 
service  to  her,  in  the  same  tender  and  faithful  spirit  as  that 
in  which  Jacob  served  for  Rachel.  Others  may  have  no- 
ticed this,  though  she  did  not. 

A  few  more  notes  remain  of  her  correspondence  '  on  be- 
half of  the  Messrs.  Bell '  with  Mr.  Aylott.  On  July  15  she 
says,  ^I  suppose,  as  you  have  not  written,  no  other  notices 
have  yet  appeared,  nor  has  the  demand  for  the  work  in- 
creased. Will  you  favour  me  with  a  line  stating  whether 
cmy,  or  how  many  copies  have  yet  been  sold  ?^ 

^  It  runs  as  follows  : — 

'  Who  gravely  asked  you  whether  Miss  Bronte  was  not  going  to  be 
married  to  her  papa's  curate  ?  I  scarcely  need  say  that  never  was 
rumour  more  unfounded.  A  cold,  far-away  sort  of  civility  are  the 
only  terms  on  which  I  have  ever  been  with  Mr.  Nicholls.  I  could  by 
no  means  think  of  mentioning  such  a  rumour  to  him  even  as  a  joke. 
It  would  make  me  the  laughiug-stock  of  himself  and  his  fellow  cu- 
rates for  half  a  year  to  come.  They  regard  me  as  an  old  maid,  and  I 
regard  them,  one  and  all,  as  highly  uninteresting,  narrow,  and  unat- 
tractive specimens  of  the  coarser  sex. 

*  Write  to  me  again  soon,  whether  you  have  anything  particular  to 
say  or  not.    Give  my  sincere  love  to  your  mother  and  sisters. 

'C.  Bronte.' 


314  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


But  few,  I  fear ;  for,  three  days  later,  she  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing : — 

^The  Messrs.  Bell  desire  me  to  thank  you  for  your  sug- 
gestion respecting  the  advertisements.  They  agree  with 
you  that,  since  the  season  is  unfavourable,  advertising  had 
better  be  deferred.  They  are  obliged  to  you  for  the  informa- 
tion respecting  the  number  of  copies  sold.^^ 

On  July  23  she  writes  to  Messrs.  Aylott  &  Jones — 

'  The  Messrs.  Bell  would  be  obliged  to  you  to  post  the 
enclosed  note  in  London.  It  is  an  answer  to  the  letter  you 
forwarded,  which  contained  an  application  for  their  auto- 
graphs from  a  person  who  professed  to  have  read  and  ad- 
mired their  poems.  I  think  I  before  intimated  that  the 
Messrs.  Bell  are  desirous  for  the  present  of  remaining  un- 
known, for  which  reason  they  prefer  having  the  note  posted 
in  London  to  sending  it  direct,  in  order  to  avoid  giving  any 
clue  to  residence,  or  identity  by  post-mark,  &c.^^ 

^  The  number  was  two  only,  as  will  appear  from  the  following  letter, 
addressed  to  Thomas  De  Quincey 

*June  16,  1847. 

*  Sir, — My  Relatives,  Ellis  and  Acton  Bell,  and  myself,  heedless  of 
the  repeated  warnings  of  various  respectable  publishers,  have  commit- 
ted the  rash  act  of  printing  a  volume  of  poems. 

'  The  consequences  predicted  have,  of  course,  overtaken  us :  our 
book  is  found  to  be  a  drug  ;  no  man  needs  it  or  heeds  it.  In  the  space 
of  a  year  our  publisher  has  disposed  but  of  two  copies,  and  by  what 
painful  efforts  he  succeeded  in  getting  rid  of  these  two  himself  only 
knows. 

'  Before  transferring  the  edition  to  the  trunkmakers  we  have  decided 
on  distributing  as  presents  a  few  copies  of  what  we  cannot  sell ;  and 
we  beg  to  offer  you  one  in  acknowledgment  of  the  pleasure  and  profit 
we  have  often  and  long  derived  from  your  works. — I  am,  sir,  yours 
very  respectfully,  Currer  Bell.' 

*  The  application  was  sent  by  Mr.  F.  Enoch,  of  the  Corn  Market, 

*  De  Quincey  Memorials,  by  Alexander  H.  Japp.  An  exactly  similar 
letter  was  addressed  by  '  Currer  Bell '  to  several  of  the  famous  authors 
of  her  daVt  to  Alfred  Tennyson  among  others.  See  Alfred,  Lord  Ten- 
nyson: a  Memoir,  by  his  son.  1898. 


1846  THE  FAILURE  OF  THE  ^POEMS'  315 


Once  more^  in  September,  she  writes,  '  As  the  work  has 
received  no  further  notice  from  any  periodical,  I  presume 
the  demand  for  it  has  not  greatly  increased/ 

In  the  biographical  notice  of  her  sisters  she  thus  speaks  of 
the  failure  of  the  modest  hopes  vested  in  this  publication  : — 

'  The  book  was  printed  ;  it  is  scarcely  known,  and  all  of 
it  that  merits  to  be  known  are  the  poems  of  Ellis  Bell. 

'  The  fixed  conviction  I  held,  and  hold,  of  the  worth  of 
these  poems  has  not,  indeed,  received  the  confirmation  of 
much  favourable  criticism ;  but  I  must  retain  it  notwith- 
standing/ 

Warwick.  The  original  autographs  are  framed  and  in  the  possession 
of  the  Bronte  Museum  at  Haworth. 


CHAPTER  XV 


DuRi]srG  this  summer  of  1846,  while  her  literary  hopes 
were  waning,  an  anxiety  of  another  kind  was  increasing. 
Her  father's  eyesight  had  become  seriously  impaired  by  the 
progress  of  the  cataract  which  was  forming.  He  was  near- 
ly blind.  He  could  grope  his  way  about,  and  recognise 
the  figures  of  those  he  knew  well,  when  they  were  placed 
against  a  strong  light ;  but  he  could  no  longer  see  to  read  ; 
and  thus  his  eager  appetite  for  knowledge  and  information 
of  all  kinds  was  severely  baulked.  He  continued  to  preach. 
I  have  heard  that  he  was  led  up  into  the  pulpit,  and  that 
his  sermons  were  never  so  effective  as  when  he  stood  there, 
a  grey,  sightless  old  man,  his  blind  eyes  looking  out  straight 
before  him,  while  the  words  that  came  from  his  lips  had  all 
the  vigour  and  force  of  his  best  days.  Another  fact  has 
been  mentioned  to  me,  curious  as  showing  the  accurateness 
of  his  sensation  of  time.  His  sermons  had  always  lasted 
exactly  half  an  hour.  With  the  clock  right  before  him, 
and  with  his  ready  flow  of  words,  this  had  been  no  difficult 
matter  so  long  as  he  could  see.  But  it  was  the  same  when 
he  was  blind  ;  as  the  minute  hand  came  to  the  point,  mark- 
ing the  expiration  of  the  thirty  minutes,  he  concluded  his 
sermon. 

Under  his  great  sorrow  he  was  always  patient.  As  in 
times  of  far  greater  affliction  he  enforced  a  quiet  endur- 
ance of  his  woe  upon  himself.  But  so  many  interests  were 
quenched  by  this  blindness  that  he  was  driven  inwards,  and 
must  have  dwelt  much  on  what  was  painful  and  distressing 
in  regard  to  his  only  son.  No  wonder  that  his  spirits  gave 
way,  and  were  depressed.  For  some  time  before  this  autumn 


1846 


AT  MANCHESTER 


317 


his  daughters  had  been  collecting  all  the  information  they 
could  respecting  the  probable  success  of  operations  for  cat- 
aract performed  on  a  person  of  their  father's  age.  About 
the  end  of  July  Emily  and  Charlotte  had  made  a  journey 
to  Manchester  for  the  purpose  of  searching  out  an  operator ; 
and  there  they  heard  of  the  fame  of  the  late  Mr.  Wilson  as 
an  oculist.  They  went  to  him  at  once,  but  he  could  not 
tell,  from  description,  whether  the  eyes  were  ready  for  be- 
ing operated  upon  or  not.  It  therefore  became  necessary  for 
Mr.  Bronte  to  visit  him  ;  and  towards  the  end  of  August 
Charlotte  brought  her  father  to  him.  He  determined  at 
once  to  undertake  the  operation,  and  recommended  them 
to  comfortable  lodgings  kept  by  an  old  servant  of  his. 
These  were  in  one  of  numerous  similar  streets  of  small  mo- 
notonous-looking houses,  in  a  suburb  of  the  town.  From 
thence  the  following  letter  is  dated,'  on  August  21, 1846  : — 

'  I  just  scribble  a  line  to  you  to  let  you  know  where  I  am, 
in  order  that  you  may  write  to  me  here,  for  it  seems  to  me 
that  a  letter  from  you  would  relieve  me  from  the  feeling  of 
strangeness  I  have  in  this  big  town.  Papa  and  I  came  here 
on  Wednesday  ;  we  saw  Mr.  Wilson,  the  oculist,  the  same 
day;  he  pronounced  papa's  eyes  quite  ready  for  an  opera- 
tion, and  has  fixed  next  Monday  for  the  performance  of 
it.  Think  of  us  on  that  day  !  We  got  into  our  lodgings 
yesterday.  I  think  we  shall  be  comfortable  ;  at  least  our 
rooms  are  very  good,  but  there  is  no  mistress  of  the  house 
(she  is  very  ill,  and  gone  out  into  the  country),  and  I  am 
somewhat  puzzled  in  managing  about  provisions ;  we  board 
ourselves.  I  find  myself  excessively  ignorant.  I  can't  tell 
what  to  order  in  the  way  of  meat.  For  ourselves  I  could 
contrive,  papa's  diet  is  so  very  simple ;  but  there  will  be  a 
nurse  coming  in  a  day  or  two,  and  I  am  afraid  of  not  hav- 
ing things  good  enough  for  her.    Papa  requires  nothing, 

^  From  83  Mount  Pleasant,  Boundary  Street,  Oxford  Road,  Man- 
chester. The  letter,  together  with  the  one  that  follows  it,  was  writ- 
ten to  Ellen  Nussey. 


318  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


you  know,  but  plain  beef  and  mutton,  tea  and  bread-and- 
butter  ;  but  a  nurse  will  probably  expect  to  live  much  bet- 
ter :  give  me  some  hints,  if  you  can.  Mr.  Wilson  says  we 
shall  have  to  stay  here  for  a  month  at  least.  I  wonder  how 
Emily  and  Anne  will  get  on  at  home  with  Branwell.  They, 
too,  will  have  their  troubles.  What  would  I  not  give  to 
have  you  here  !  One  is  forced,  step  by  step,  to  get  expe- 
rience in  the  world  ;  but  the  learning  is  so  disagreeable. 
One  cheerful  feature  in  the  business  is  that  Mr.  Wilson 
thinks  most  favourably  of  the  case.' 

*  August  26,  1846. 

'  The  operation  is  over ;  it  took  place  yesterday.  Mr. 
Wilson  performed  it ;  two  other  surgeons  assisted.  Mr. 
Wilson  says  he  considers  it  quite  successful ;  but  papa 
cannot  yet  see  anything.  The  affair  lasted  precisely  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  ;  it  was  not  the  simple  operation  of 
couching  Mr.  C.  described,  but  the  more  complicated  one 
of  extracting  the  cataract.  Mr.  Wilson  entirely  disapproves 
of  couching.  Papa  displayed  extraordinary  patience  and 
firmness ;  the  surgeons  seemed  surprised.  I  was  in  the 
room  all  the  time,  as  it  was  his  wish  that  I  should  be  there ; 
of  course  I  neither  spoke  nor  moved  till  the  thing  was 
done,  and  then  I  felt  that  the  less  I  said,  either  to  papa 
or  the  surgeons,  the  better.  Papa  is  now  confined  to  his 
bed  in  a  dark  room,  and  is  not  to  be  stirred  for  four 
days ;  he  is  to  speak  and  be  spoken  to  as  little  as  possi- 
ble. I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  your  letter,  and  your 
kind  advice,  which  gave  me  extreme  satisfaction,  because 
I  found  I  had  arranged  most  things  in  accordance  with 
it,  and,  as  your  theory  coincides  with  my  practice,  I  feel 
assured  the  latter  is  right.  I  hope  Mr.  Wilson  will  soon 
allow  me  to  dispense  with  the  nurse  ;  she  is  well  enough, 
no  doubt,  but  somewhat  too  obsequious  ;  and  not,  I  should 
think,  to  be  much  trusted  ;  yet  I  was  obliged  to  trust  her 
in  some  things.  .  .  . 

^  Greatly  was  I  amused  by  your  account  of  (Joseph 
Taylor)'s  flirtations  j  and  yet  something  saddened  also.  I 


1846 


AT  MANCHESTER 


319 


think  Nature  intended  him  for  something  better  than  to 
fritter  away  his  time  in  making  a  set  of  poor,  unoccupied 
spinsters  unhappy.  The  girls,  unfortunately,  are  forced 
to  care  for  him,  and  such  as  him,  because,  while  their 
minds  are  mostly  unemployed,  their  sensations  are  all  un- 
worn, and  consequently  fresh  and  green ;  and  he,  on  the 
contrary,  has  had  his  fill  of  pleasure,  and  can,  with  im- 
punity, make  a  mere  pastime  of  other  people^s  torments. 
This  is  an  unfair  state  of  things  ;  the  match  is  not  equal. 
I  only  wish  I  had  the  power  to  infuse  into  the  souls  of 
the  persecuted  a  little  of  the  quiet  strength  of  pride — of 
the  supporting  consciousness  of  superiority  (for  they  are 
superior  to  him,  because  purer) — of  the  fortifying  resolve 
of  firmness  to  bear  the  present,  and  wait  the  end.  Could 
all  the  virgin  population  of  (Birstall  and  Gomersal)  receive 
and  retain  these  sentiments,  he  would  continually  have  to 
vail  his  crest  before  them.  Perhaps,  luckily,  their  feel- 
ings are  not  so  acute  as  one  would  think,  and  the  gentle- 
man's shafts  consequently  don^t  wound  so  deeply  as  he 
might  desire.    I  hope  it  is  so.' 

A  few  days  later  she  writes  thus:'  ^  Papa  is  still  lying  in 
bed,  in  a  dark  room,  with  his  eyes  bandaged.  No  inflam- 
mation ensued,  but  still  it  appears  the  greatest  care,  per- 
fect quiet,  and  utter  privation  of  light  are  necessary  to  en- 
sure a  good  result  from  the  operation.  He  is  very  patient, 
but  of  course  depressed  and  weary.  He  was  allowed  to  try 
his  sight  for  the  first  time  yesterday.  He  could  see  dim- 
ly. Mr.  Wilson  seemed  perfectly  satisfied,  and  said^all  was 
right.  I  have  had  bad  nights  from  the  toothache  since  I 
came  to  Manchester.^ 

All  this  time,  notwithstanding  the  domi^stic  anxieties 
which  were  harassing  them — notwithstandirig  the  ill-success 
of  their  poems — the  three  sisters  were  trying  that  other  lit- 
erary venture  to  which  Charlotte  made^  allusion  in  one  of 

i 

*  On  August  31,  1846,  to  Ellen  iN'ussey. 

/ 

! 


320  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


her  letters  to  the  Messrs.  Aylott.  Each  of  them  had  written 
a  prose  tale,  hoping  that  the  three  might  be  published  to- 
gether. ^Wuthering  Heights^  and  ''Agnes  Grey"  are  be- 
fore the  world.  The  third,  ^The  Professor^ — Charlotte^s 
contribution — was  published  shortly  after  the  appearance 
of  the  first  edition  of  this  memoir.^  The  plot  in  itself  is 
of  no  great  interest;  but  it  is  a  poor  kind  of  interest  that 
depends  upon  startling  incidents  rather  than  upon  dramatic 
development  of  character;  and  Charlotte  Bronte  never  ex- 
celled one  or  two  sltetches  or  portraits  which  she  has  given 
in  ^The  Professor/  nor,  in  grace  of  womanhood,  ever  sur- 
passed one  of  the  female  characters  there  described.  By 
the  time  she  wrote  this  tale  her  taste  and  judgment  had 
revolted  against  the  exaggerated  idealisms  of  her  early 
girlhood,  and  she  went  to  the  extreme  of  reality,  closely  de- 
picting characters  as  they  had  shown  themselves  to  her  in 
actual  life  :  if  there  they  were  strong  even  to  coarseness — 
as  was  the  case  with  some  that  she  had  met  with  in  flesh- 
and-blood  existence — she  ^  wrote  them  down  an  ass ; "  if 
the  scenery  of  such  life  as  she  saw  was  for  the  most  part 
wild  and  grotesque,  instead  of  pleasant  or  picturesque,  she 
described  it  line  for  line.  The  grace  of  the  one  or  two 
scenes  and  characters  which  are  drawn  rather  from  her  own 
imagination  than  from  absolute  fact,  stand  out  in  exquisite 
relief  from  the  deep  shadows  and  wayward  lines  of  others, 
which  call  to  mind  some  of  the  portraits  of  Rembrandt. 

The  three  tales  had  tried  their  fate  in  vain  together ; 
at  length  they  were  sent  forth  separately,  and  for  many 
months  with  still-continued  ill  success.  I  have  mentioned 
this  here  because,  among  the  dispiriting  circumstances 
connected  with  her  anxious  visit  to  Manchester,  Charlotte 
told  me  that  her  tale  came  back  upon  her  hands,  curtly 

^  The  first  editii^n  of  The  Professor  was  published  in  two  volumes, 
with  a  brief  introdl'ictory  note  by  Mr.  A.  B.  Nicholls,  dated  Septem- 
ber 22,  1856.  The  tftle-page  ran,  *  The  Professor:  a  Tale.  By  Currer 
Bell,  Author  of  Jd^ne  Eyre,'"  ''Shirley,''  Villette,"  &c.  In  two 
volumes.    London:  SiMth,  Elder,  &  Co.,  65  Cornhill,  1857/ 


1846 


HER  BRAVE  HEART 


321 


rejected  by  some  publisher,  on  the  very  day  when  her 
father  was  to  submit  to  his  operation.  But  she  had  the 
heart  of  Robert  Bruce  within  her,  and  failure  upon  failure 
daunted  her  no  more  than  him.  Not  only  did  ^  The  Pro- 
fessor^ return  again  to  try  his  chance  among  the  London 
publishers,  but  she  began,  in  this  time  of  care  and  depress- 
ing inquietude  —  in  those  grey,  weary,  uniform  streets, 
where  all  faces,  save  that  of  her  kind  doctor,  were  strange 
and  untouched  with  sunlight  to  her  —  there  and  then  did 
the  brave  genius  begin  ^  Jane  Eyre/i  Read  what  she  her- 
self says  : — ^-Currer  BelFs  book  found  acceptance  nowhere, 
nor  any  acknowledgment  of  merit,  so  that  something  like 
the  chill  of  despair  began  to  invade  his  heart.'^  And,  re- 
member, it  was  not  the  heart  of  a  person  who,  disap- 
pointed in  one  hope,  can  turn  with  redoubled  affection  to 
the  many  certain  blessings  that  remain.  Think  of  her 
home,  and  the  black  shadow  of  remorse  lying  over  one  in 
it,  till  his  very  brain  was  mazed,  and  his  gifts  and  his  life 
were  lost ;  think  of  her  father^s  sight  hanging  on  a  thread  ; 
of  her  sisters'  delicate  health,  and  dependence  on  her  care  ; 
and  then  admire,  as  it  deserves  to  be  admired,  the  steady 
courage  which  could  work  away  at  ^Jane  Eyre,'  all  the 
time  ^that  the  one -volume  tale  was  plodding  its  weary 
round  in  London.' 

Some  of  her  surviving  friends  consider  that  an  incident 
which  she  heard,  when  at  school  at  Miss  Wooler's,  was 
the  germ  of  the  story  of  ^  Jane  Eyre.'  But  of  this 
nothing  can  be  known,  except  by  conjecture.  Those 
to  whom  she  spoke  upon  the  subject  of  her  writings 
are  dead  and  silent;  and  the  reader  may  probably  have 

'  The  Professor  was  considered  by  six  successive  publishers  before 
it  was  read  by  Mr.  Smith  Williams,  the  *  reader '  for  Smith,  Elder,  & 
Co.  Mr,  Smith  Williams,  on  the  strength  of  her  statement  that  she 
had  *  a  second  narrative  in  three  volumes  now  in  progress '  (see  p. 
336),  suggested  that  she  should  complete  that  novel,  and  submit  it  to 
the  firm  he  represented.  Hence  Jane  Eyre  was  submitted  only  to  the 
firm  that  published  it. 
21 


322 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


noticed  that  in  the  correspondence  from  which  I  have 
quoted  there  has  been  no  allusion  whatever  to  the  pub- 
lication of  her  poems^  nor  is  there  the  least  hint  of  the 
intention  of  the  sisters  to  publish  any  tales.  I  remem- 
ber, however,  many  little  particulars  which  Miss  Bronte 
gave  me,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries  respecting  her  mode  of 
composition,  &c.  She  said  that  it  was  not  every  day  that 
she  could  write.  Sometimes  weeks  or  even  months  elapsed 
before  she  felt  that  she  had  anything  to  add  to  that  portion 
of  her  story  which  was  already  written.  Then  some  morn- 
ing she  would  waken  up,  and  the  progress  of  her  tale  lay 
clear  and  bright  before  her,  in  distinct  vision.  When  this 
was  the  case  all  her  care  was  to  discharge  her  household 
and  filial  duties,  so  as  to  obtain  leisure  to  sit  down  and 
write  out  the  incidents  and  consequent  thoughts,  which 
were,  in  fact,  more  present  to  her  mind  at  such  times  than 
her  actual  life  itself.  Yet,  notwithstanding  this  '  posses- 
sion ^  (as  it  were),  those  who  survive,  of  her  daily  and 
household  companions,  are  clear  in  their  testimony  that 
never  was  the  claim  of  any  duty,  never  was  the  call  of  an- 
other for  help  neglected  for  an  instant.  It  had  become 
necessary  to  give  Tabby — now  nearly  eighty  years  of  age — 
the  assistance  of  a  girl.  Tabby  relinquished  any  of  her 
work  with  a  jealous  reluctance,  and  could  not  bear  to  be 
reminded,  though  ever  so  delicately,  that  the  acuteness  of 
her  senses  was  dulled  by  age.  The  other  servant  might 
not  interfere  with  what  she  chose  to  consider  her  exclusive 
work.  Among  other  things  she  reserved  to  herself  the 
right  of  peeling  the  potatoes  for  dinner ;  but,  as  she  was 
growing  blind,  she  often  left  in  those  black  specks  which 
we  in  the  North  call  the  ^eyes^  of  the  potato.  Miss 
Bronte  was  too  dainty  a  housekeeper  to  put  up  with  this; 
yet  she  could  not  bear  to  hurt  the  faithful  old  servant  by 
bidding  the  younger  maiden  go  over  the  potatoes  again, 
and  so  reminding  Tabby  that  her  work  was  less  effectual 
than  formerly.  Accordingly  she  would  steal  into  the 
kitchen,  and  quietly  carry  off  the  bowl  of  vegetables,  with- 


im 


HER  SYSTEM  OF  WORKING 


323 


out  Tabby^s  being  aware^  and,  breaking  off  in  the  full  flow 
of  interest  and  inspiration  in  her  writing,  carefully  cut  out 
the  specks  in  the  potatoes,  and  noiselessly  carry  them  back 
to  their  place.  This  little  proceeding  may  show  how  or- 
derly and  fully  she  accomplished  her  duties,  even  at  those 
times  when  the  ^possessions  was  upon  her. 

Any  one  who  has  studied  her  writings,  whether  in  print 
or  in  her  letters ;  any  one  who  has  enjoyed  the  rare  privi- 
lege of  listening  to  her  talk,  must  have  noticed  her  singu- 
lar felicity  in  the  choice  of  words.  She  herself,  in  writing 
her  books,  was  solicitous  on  this  point.  One  set  of  words 
was  the  truthful  mirror  of  her  thoughts  ;  no  others,  how- 
ever identical  in  meaning,  would  do.  She  had  that  strong 
practical  regard  for  the  simple  holy  truth  of  expression 
which  Mr.  Trench  ^  has  enforced,  as  a  duty  too  often  neg- 
lected. She  would  wait  patiently,  searching  for  the  right 
term,  until  it  presented  itself  to  her.  It  might  be  provin- 
cial, it  might  be  derived  from  the  Latin  ;  so  that  it  accu- 
rately represented  her  idea  she  did  not  mind  whence  it 
came  ;  but  this  care  makes  her  style  present  the  finish  of  a 
piece  of  mosaic.  Each  component  part,  however  small, 
has  been  dropped  into  the  right  place.  She  never  wrote 
down  a  sentence  until  she  clearly  understood  what  she 
wanted  to  say,  had  deliberately  chosen  the  words,  and 
arranged  them  in  their  right  order.  Hence  it  comes  that, 
in  the  scraps  of  paper  covered  with  her  pencil  writing  which 
I  have  seen,  there  will  occasionally  be  a  sentence  scored 
out,  but  seldom,  if  ever,  a  word,  or  an  expression.  She 
wrote  on  these  bits  of  paper  in  a  minute  hand,  holding  each 
against  a  piece  of  board,  such  as  is  used  in  binding  books, 
for  a  desk.^  This  plan  was  necessary  for  one  so  short- 
sighted as  she  was  ;  and,  besides,  it  enabled  her  to  use 

1  Richard  Chenevix  Trench  (1807-1886),  Archbishop  of  Dublin.  His 
Study  of  Words  was  published  in  1851,  and  English,  Past  and  Present, 
in  1855. 

*Mr.  Nicholls  still  preserves  one  of  the  broken  book-covers  upon 
which,  he  tells  me,  his  wife  wrote  Jane  Eyre. 


324  /life  of  charlotte  BRONTE 


pencil  and  paper,  as  she  sat  near  the  fire  in  the  twilight 
hours,  or  if  (as  was  too  often  the  case)  she  was  wakeful  for 
hours  in  the  night.  Her  finished  manuscripts  were  copied 
from  these  pencil  scraps,  in  clear,  legible,  delicately  traced 
writing,  almost  as  easy  to  read  as  print. 

The  sisters  retained  the  old  habit,  which  was  begun  in 
their  aunt^s  lifetime,  of  putting  away  their  work  at  nine 
o^clock,  and  commencing  their  study,  pacing  up  and  down 
the  sitting-room.  At  this  time  they  talked  over  the  stories 
they  were  engaged  upon,  and  described  their  plots.  Once 
or  twice  a  week  each  read  to  the  others  what  she  had  writ- 
ten, and  heard  what  they  had  to  say  about  it.  Charlotte 
told  me  that  the  remarks  made  had  seldom  any  effect  in 
inducing  her  to  alter  her  work,  so  possessed  was  she  with 
the  feeling  that  she  had  described  reality ;  but  the  read- 
ings were  of  great  and  stirring  interest  to  all,  taking  them 
out  of  the  gnawing  pressure  of  daily  recurring  cares,  and 
setting  them  in  a  free  place.  It  was  on  one  of  these  occa- 
sions that  Charlotte  determined  to  make  her  heroine  plain, 
small,  and  unattractive,  in  defiance  of  the  accepted  canon. 

The  writer  of  the  beautiful  obituary  article  on  '  the 
death  of  Currer  BelF'  most  likely  learnt  from  herself  what 
is  there  stated,  and  which  I  will  take  the  liberty  of  quoting, 
about  ^  Jane  Eyre.^ 

^  She  once  told  her  sisters  that  they  were  wrong — even 
morally  wrong  —  in  making  their  heroines  beautiful  as  a 
matter  of  course.  They  replied  that  it  was  impossible  to 
make  a  heroine  interesting  on  any  other  terms.  Her  answer 
was,  ^^I  will  prove  to  you  that  you  are  wrong;  I  will  show 
you  a  heroine  as  plain  and  as  small  as  myself,  who  shall  be 
as  interesting  as  any  of  yours. Hence  ^^Jane  Eyre,^^said 
she  in  telling  the  anecdote  :  but  she  is  not  myself  any 
further  than  that.^^  As  the  work  went  on  the  interest 
deepened  to  the  writer.    When  she  came  to  Thornfield 


^  Miss  Harriet  Martineau  in  the  Daily  News. 


1846         THE  RETURN  FROM  MANCHESTER  325 


she  could  not  stop.  Being  short-sighted  to  excess,  she 
wrote  in  little  square  paper-books,  held  close  to  her  eyes, 
and  (the  first  copy)  in  pencil.  On  she  went  writing  inces- 
santly for  three  weeks ;  by  which  time  she  had  carried  her 
heroine  away  from  Thornfield,  and  was  herself  in  a  fever 
which  compelled  her  to  pause.^  .  . 

This  is  all,  I  believe,  which  can  now  be  told  respecting 
the  conception  and  composition  of  this  wonderful  book, 
which  was,  however,  only  at  its  commencement  when  Miss 
Bronte  returned  with  her  father  to  Haworth,  after  their 
anxious  expedition  to  Manchester. 

They  arrived  at  home  about  the  end  of  September.  Mr. 
Bronte  was  daily  gaining  strength,  but  he  was  still  forbid- 
den to  exercise  his  sight  much.  Things  had  gone  on 
more  comfortably  while  she  was  away  than  Charlotte 
had  dared  to  hope,  and  she  expresses  herself  thankful 
for  the  good  ensured  and  the  evil  spared  during  her  ab- 
sence. 

Soon  after  this  some  jjroposal,  of  which  I  have  not  been 
able  to  gain  a  clear  account,  was  again  mooted  for  Miss 
Bronte^s  opening  a  school  at  some  place  distant  from  Ha- 
worth. It  elicited  the  following  fragment  of  a  character- 
istic reply  : — 

'Leave  home  !  I  shall  neither  be  able  to  find  place  nor 
employment ;  perhaps,  too,  I  shall  be  quite  past  the  prime 
of  life,  my  faculties  will  be  rusted,  and  my  few  acquire- 
ments in  a  great  mcEi^sure  forgotten.  These  ideas  sting  me 
keenly  sometimes  ;  but,  whenever  I  consult  my  conscience, 
it  affirms  that  I  am  doing  right  in  staying  at  home,  and 
bitter  are  its  upbraidings  when  I  yield  to  an  eager  desire 
for  release.  I  could  hardly  expect  success  if  I  were  to 
err  against  such  wariiings.    I  should  like  to  hear  from  you 

again  soon.    Bring  11  to  the  point,  and  make  him  give 

you  a  clear,  not  a  vague,  account  of  what  pupils  he  really 
could  promise  ;  people  often  think  they  can  do  great  things 


626 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


in  that  way  till  they  have  tried  ;  but  getting  pupils  is  unlike 
getting  any  other  sort  of  goods/  ^ 

Whatever  might  be  the  nature  and  extent  of  this  negotia- 
tion, the  end  of  it  was  that  Charlotte  adhered  to  the  de- 
cision of  her  conscience,  which  bade  her  remain  at  home, 
as  long  as  her  presence  could  cheer  or  comfort  those  who 
were  in  distress,  or  had  the  slighest  influence  over  him  who 
was  the  cause  of  it.  The  next  extract  gives  us  a  glimpse 
into  the  cares  of  that  home.  It  is  from  a  letter  dd,ted  De- 
cember 15. 

^  I  hope  you  are  not  frozen  up ;  ^  the  cold  here  is  dread- 

^  Mrs.  Gaskell  has  somewhat  abridged  this  letter,  which  in  the  orig- 
inal runs  as  follows  : — 

*  I  read  your  letter  with  attentioii,  not  on  my  own  account,  for  any 
project  which  infers  the  necessity  of  my  leaving  home  is  impractica- 
ble to  me.  If  I  could  leave  home  I  s*iould  not  be  at  Haworth  now ; 
1  know  life  is  passing  away,  and  I  am  doing  nothing,  earning  nothing. 
A  very  bitter  knowledge  it  is  at  moments,  but  I  see  no  way  out  of 
the  mist.  More  than  one  very  favourable  opportunity  has  now  offered, 
which  I  have  been  obliged  to  put  aside.  Probably  when  I  am  free  to 
leave  home  I  shall  neither  be  able  to  find  f>lace  nor  employment ;  per- 
haps, too,  I  shall  be  quite  past  the  prime  of  life,  my  faculties  will  be 
rusted,  and  my  few  acquirements  in  a  great  measure  forgotten.  These 
ideas  sting  me  keenly  sometimes,  but  whenever  I  consult  my  con- 
science it  affirms  that  I  am  doing  right  in  staying  at  home,  and  bitter 
are  its  upbraidings  when  I  yield  to  an  eager  desire  for  release.  I 
returned  to  Brussels  after  aunt's  death  against  my  conscience,  prompt- 
ed by  what  seemed  then  an  irresistible  impulse.  I  was  punished  for 
my  selfish  folly  by  a  total  hindrance  for  more  than  two  years  of  hap- 
piness and  peace  of  mind.  I  could  hardly  pxpect  success  were  I  to 
err  again  in  the  same  way.' 

It  has  been  urged  that  this  passage,  in  its  suggestion  of  loss  of 
*  peace  of  mind,*  has  reference  to  the  writer's  devotion  to  her  profess- 
or, M.  Heger,  having  been  something  more  than  the  admiration  of  a 
pupil  for  an  honoured  instructor.  Charlotte  Bronte's  friend  Ellen 
Nussey,  on  the  other  hand,  always  declared  that  the  reference  was  to 
her  father  having  given  way  to  drink  during  her  second  sojourn  in 
Brussels.    The  point  is  unimportant. 

2  In  the  original  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey  the  words  '  frozen  up  in 
Northamptonshire '  occur. 


im        ANNE'S  ^HEROISM  OF  ENDURANCE'  327 

fnl.  I  do  not  remember  such  a  series  of  North-Pole  days. 
England  might  really  have  taken  a  slide  up  into  the  Arctic 
Zone  ;  the  sky  looks  like  ice  ;  the  earth  is  frozen  ;  the  wind 
is  as  keen  as  a  two-edged  blade.  We  have  all  had  severe 
colds  and  coughs  in  consequence  of  the  weather.  Poor 
Anne  has  suffered  greatly  from  asthma,  but  is  now,  we  are 
glad  to  say,  rather  better.  She  had  two  nights  last  week 
when  her  cough  and  difficulty  of  breathing  were  painful 
indeed  to  hear  and  witness,  and  must  have  been  most  dis- 
tressing to  suffer ;  she  bore  it,  as  she  bears  all  affliction, 
without  one  complaint,  only  sighing  now  and  then  when 
nearly  worn  out.  She  has  an  extraordinary  heroism  of  en- 
durance. I  admire,  but  I  certainly  could  not  imitate  her." 
.  .  .  ^  You  say  I  am  to  ^Hell  you  plenty."  What  would  you 
have  me  say  ?  Nothing  happens  at  Haworth  ;  nothing,  at 
least,  of  a  pleasant  kind.  One  little  incident  occurred 
about  a  week  ago  to  sting  us  to  life  ;  but  if  it  gives  no 
more  pleasure  for  you  to  hear  than  it  does  for  us  to  wit- 
ness, you  will  scarcely  thank  me  for  adverting  to  it.  It 
was  merely  the  arrival  of  a  sheriff^s  officer  on  a  visit  to 
Branwell,  inviting  him  either  to  pay  his  debts  or  take  a 
trip  to  York.  Of  course  his  debts  had  to  be  paid.  It  is 
not  agreeable  to  lose  money,  time  after  time,  in  this  way ; 
but  where  is  the  use  of  dwelling  on  such  subjects  ?  It  will 
make  him  no  better." 

*  December  28. 

^  I  feel  as  if  it  was  almost  a  farce  to  sit  down  and  write 
to  you  now,  with  nothing  to  say  worth  listening  to ;  and 
indeed,  if  it  were  not  for  two  reasons,  I  should  put  oft*  the 
business  at  least  a  fortnight  hence.  The  first  reason  is,  I 
want  another  letter  from  you,  for  your  letters  are  interest- 
ing, they  have  something  in  them,  some  results  of  experi- 
ence and  observation  ;  one  receives  them  with  pleasure, 
and  reads  them  with  relish  ;  and  these  letters  I  cannot  ex- 
pect to  get,  unless  I  reply  to  them.  I  wish  the  corre- 
spondence could  be  managed  so  as  to  be  all  on  one  side. 
The  second  reason  is  derived  from  a  remark  in  your  last. 


338 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


that  yon  felt  lonely,  something  as  I  was  at  Brussels/  and 
that  consequently  you  had  a  peculiar  desire  to  hear  from 
old  acquaintance.  I  can  understand  and  sympathise  with 
this.  I  remember  the  shortest  note  was  a  treat  to  me, 
when  I  was  at  the  above-named  place ;  therefore  I  write. 
I  have  also  a  third  reason  :  it  is  a  haunting  terror  lest  you 
should  imagine  I  forget  you — that  my  regard  cools  with 
absence.  It  is  not  in  my  nature  to  forget  your  nature ; 
though  I  dare  say  I  should  spit  fire  and  explode  some- 
times if  we  lived  together  continually ;  and  you,  too, 
would  get  angry,  and  then  we  should  get  reconciled  and 
jog  on  as  before.  Do  you  ever  get  dissatisfied  with  your 
own  temper  when  you  are  long  fixed  to  one  place,  in  one 
scene,  subject  to  one  monotonous  species  of  annoyance  ?  I 
do  :  I  am  now  in  that  unenviable  frame  of  mind ;  my  hu- 
mour, I  think,  is  too  soon  overthrown,  too  sore,  too  de- 
monstrative and  vehement.    I  almost  long  for  some  of  the 

uniform  serenity  you  describe  in  Mrs.  's  disposition  ; 

or,  at  least,  I  would  fain  have  her  power  of  self-control  and 
concealment;  but  I  would  not  take  her  artificial  habits  and 
ideas  along  with  her  composure.  After  all  I  should  prefer 
being  as  I  am.  .  .  .  You  do  right  not  to  be  annoyed  at 
any  maxims  of  conventionality  you  meet  with.  Regard  all 
new  ways  in  the  light  of  fresh  experience  for  you  :  if  you 
see  any  honey,  gather  it.^ '  .  .  .  don%  after  all,  con- 
sider that  we  ought  to  despise  everything  we  see  in  the 
world,  merely  because  it  is  not  what  we  are  accustomed  to. 

^  *  At  Stonegappe  and  Brussels'  in  the  original  letter,  which  was  ad- 
dressed to  Ellen  Nussey. 

2  '  See  Punch '  is  the  only  omission  here.  The  previous  number  of 
Punch  (No.  241,  vol.  x.  p.  91,  February  21,  1846)  had  contained  a 
paper  entitled  'Little  Fables  for  Little  Politicians.'  The  second  of 
these  fables,  entitled  '  The  Drones,'  sets  forth  how  *  a  swarm  of  drones 
lived  for  a  number  of  years  in  a  rich  beehive,  helping  themselves  to 
the  best  of  the  honey,  and  contributing  nothing  to  the  store.'  Finally, 
the  drones — that  is  to  say,  the  Protectionists — were  driven  out  by  the 
bees;  and  Punch  implores  ' our  venerable  Dukes  to  have  the  above 
little  Fable  read  to  them  at  least  once  a  day.' 


1846 


THE  CLOSE  OF  1846 


329 


I  suspect,  on  the  contrary,  that  there  are  not  nnfreqnently 
substantial  reasons  underneath  for  customs  that  appear  to 
us  absurd  ;  and  if  I  were  ever  again  to  find  myself  amongst 
strangers  I  should  be  solicitous  to  examine  before  I  con- 
demned. Indiscriminating  irony  and  fault-finding  are 
just  sunnjMshness,  and  that  is  all.  Anne  is  now  much 
better,  but  papa  has  been  for  near  a  fortnight  far  from  well 
with  the  influenza ;  he  has  at  times  a  most  distressing 
cough,  and  his  spirits  are  much  depressed.^ 

So  ended  the  year  1846. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  next  year  opened  with  a  spell  of  cold,  dreary  weather, 
which  told  severely  on  a  constitution  already  tried  by  anx- 
iety and  care.  Miss  Bronte  describes  herself  as  having  ut- 
terly lost  her  appetite,  and  as  looking  ^  grey,  old,  worn, 
and  sunk,^  from  her  sufferings  during  the  inclement  sea- 
son. The  cold  brought  on  severe  toothache ;  toothache 
was  the  cause  of  a  succession  of  restless,  miserable  nights ; 
and  long  wakefulness  told  acutely  upon  her  nerves,  making 
them  feel  with  redoubled  sensitiveness  all  the  harass  of  her 
oppressive  life.  Yet  she  would  not  allow  herself  to  lay  her 
bad  health  to  the  charge  of  an  uneasy  mind;  ^for  after 
all,^  said  she  at  this  time,  ^  I  have  many,  many  things  to  be 
thankful  for.^  But  the  real  state  of  things  may  be  gath- 
ered from  the  following  extracts  from  her  letters. 

*  March  1. 

^  Even  at  the  risk  of  appearing  very  exacting  I  can't  help 
saying  that  I  should  like  a  letter  as  long  as  j'^our  last,  every 
time  you  write.  Short  notes  give  one  the  feeling  of  a  very 
small  piece  of  a  very  good  thing  to  eat — they  set  the  appe- 
tite on  edge,  and  don't  satisfy  it — a  letter  leaves  you  more 
contented  ;  and  yet,  after  all,  I  am  very  glad  to  get  notes  ; 
so  don't  think,  when  you  are  pinched  for  time  and  ma- 
terials, that  it  is  useless  to  write  a  few  lines  ;  be  assured  a 
few  lines  are  very  acceptable  as  far  as  they  go;  and  though 
I  like  long  letters  I  would  by  no  means  have  you  to  make 
a  task  of  writing  them.  ...  I  really  should  like  you  to 
come  to  Haworth,  before  I  again  go  to  B(irstall).  And  it 
is  natural  and  right  that  I  should  have  this  wish.   To  keep 


1847 


FAMILY  TRIALS 


331 


friendship  in  proper  order  the  balance  of  good  offices  must 
be  preserved  ;  otherwise  a  disquieting  and  anxious  feeling 
creeps  in^  and  destroys  mutual  comfort.  In  summer^  and 
in  fine  weather,  your  visit  here  might  be  much  better  man- 
aged than  in  winter.  We  could  go  out  more,  be  more  in- 
dependent of  the  house  and  of  our  room.  Branwell  has 
been  conducting  himself  very  badly  lately.  I  expect,  from 
the  extravagance  of  his  behaviour,  and  from  mysterious 
hints  he  drops  (for  he  never  will  speak  out  plainly),  that 
we  shall  be  hearing  news  of  fresh  debts  contracted  by  him 
soon.  My  health  is  better  :  I  lay  the  blame  of  its  feeble- 
ness on  the  cold  weather  more  than  on  an  uneasy  mind.^ 

*  March  24,  1847. 

'  It  is  at  Haworth,  if  all  be  well,  that  we  must  next  see 
each  other  again.  I  owe  you  a  grudge  for  giving  Miss 
Wooler  some  very  exaggerated  account  about  my  not  being 
well,  and  setting  her  on  to  urge  my  leaving  home  as  quite 
a  duty.  1^11  take  care  not  to  tell  you  next  time,  when  I 
think  I  am  looking  specially  old  and  ugly ;  as  if  people 
could  not  have  that  privilege  without  being  supposed  to  be 
at  the  last  gasp !  I  shall  be  thirty-one  next  birthday.  My 
youth  is  gone  like  a  dream  ;  and  very  little  use  have  I  ever 
made  of  it.  What  have  I  done  these  last  thirty  years  ? 
Precious  little.^* 

i  iv  .f. 

The  quiet,  sad  year  stole  on.  The  sisters  were  contem- 
plating near  at  hand,  and  for  a  long  time,  the  terrible  ef- 
fects of  talents  misused  and  faculties  abused  in  the  person 
of  that  brother  once  their  fond  darling  and  dearest  pride. 
They  had  to  cheer  the  poor  old  father,  in  whose  heart  all 
trials  sank  the  deeper,  because  of  the  silent  stoicism  of  his 
endurance.  They  had  to  watch  over  his  health,  of  which, 
whatever  was  its  state,  he  seldom  complained.  They  had 
to  save,  as  much  as  they  could,  the  precious  remnants  of 
his  sight.    They  had  to  order  the  frugal  household  with 


^  Both  the  above  letters  were  addressed  to  Ellen  Nussey. 


332 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


increased  care,  so  as  to  supply  wants  and  expenditure  utter- 
ly foreign  to  their  self-denying  natures.  Though  they 
shrank  from  overmuch  contact  with  their  fellow  beings, 
for  all  whom  they  met  they  had  kind  words,  if  few  ;  and 
when  kind  actions  were  needed  they  were  not  spared,  if 
the  sisters  at  the  Parsonage  could  render  them.  They 
visited  the  parish  schools  duly;  and  often  were  Charlotte^s 
rare  and  brief  holidays  of  a  visit  from  home  shortened  by 
her  sense  of  the  necessity  of  being  in  her  place  at  the  Sun- 
day school. 

In  the  intervals  of  such  a  life  as  this  ^  Jane  Eyre^  was 
making  progress.  ^  The  Professor  ^  was  passing  slowly  and 
heavily  from  publisher  to  publisher.  ^  Wuthering  Heights  ^ 
and  ^  Agnes  Grey^  had  been  accepted  by  another  publisher, 
^  on  terms  somewhat  impoverishing  to  the  two  authors  a 
bargain  to  be  alluded  to  more  fully  hereafter.*  It  was 
lying  in  his  hands,  awaiting  his  pleasure  for  its  passage 
through  the  press,  during  all  the  months  of  early  summer. 

The  piece  of  external  brightness  to  which  the  sisters 
looked  during  these  same  summer  months  was  the  hope 
that  the  friend  to  whom  so  many  of  Charlotte^s  letters  are 
addressed,  and  who  was  her  chosen  companion,  whenever 
circumstances  permitted  them  to  be  together,  as  well  as  a 
favourite  with  Emily  and  Anne,  would  be  able  to  pay  them 
a  visit  at  Haworth.  Fine  weather  had  come  in  May,  Char- 
lotte writes,  and  they  hoped  to  make  their  visitor  decently 
comfortable.  Their  brother  was  tolerably  well,  having  got 
to  the  end  of  a  considerable  sum  of  money  which  he  became 
possessed  of  in  the  spring,  and  therefore  under  the  whole- 
some restriction  of  poverty.  But  Charlotte  warns  her  friend 
that  she  must  expect  to  find  a  change  in  his  appearance,  and 
that  he  is  broken  in  mind  ;  and  ends  her  note  of  entreating 
invitation  by  saying,  ^  I  pray  for  fine  weather,  that  we  may 
get  out  while  you  stay.' 

At  length  the  day  was  fixed. 

*  The  two  stories  were  published  as  if  they  were  one  book  ;  see  note, 
p.  356. 


A  DISAPPOINTMENT 


333 


^Friday  will  suit  us  very  well.  I  do  trust  nothing  will 
now  arise  to  prevent  your  coming.  I  shall  be  anxious  about 
the  weather  on  that  day  ;  if  it  rains  I  shall  cry.  Don^t  ex- 
pect me  to  meet  you ;  where  would  be  the  good  of  it  ?  I 
neither  like  to  meet^  nor  to  be  met.  Unless,  indeed,  you 
had  a  box  or  a  basket  for  me  to  carry  ;  then  there  would  be 
some  sense  in  it.  Come  in  black,  blue,  pink,  white,  or 
scarlet,  as  you  like.  Come  shabby  or  smart ;  neither  the 
colour  nor  the  condition  signifies  ;  provided  only  the  dress 
contain  Ellen,  all  will  be  right.' 

But  there  came  the  first  of  a  series  of  disappointments  to 
be  borne.  One  feels  how  sharp  it  must  have  been  to  have 
wrung  out  the  following  words  : — 

'  May  20. 

^  Your  letter  of  yesterday  did  indeed  give  me  a  cruel  chill 
of  disappointment.  I  cannot  blame  you,  for  I  know  it  was 
not  your  fault.  I  do  not  altogether  exempt  from  re- 
proach. .  .  .  This  is  bitter,  but  I  feel  bitter.  As  to  going  to 
B(irstall),  I  will  not  go  near  the  place  till  you  have  been  to 
Ha  worth.  My  respects  to  all  and  sundry,  accompanied 
with  a  large  amount  of  wormwood  and  gall,  from  the  ef- 
fusion of  which  you  and  your  mother  are  alone  excepted. — 
C.  B. 

^  You  are  quite  at  liberty  to  tell  what  I  think,  if  you 
judge  proper.  Though  it  is  true  I  may  be  somewhat  un- 
just, for  I  am  deeply  annoyed.  I  thought  I  had  arranged 
your  visit  tolerably  comfortable  for  you  this  time.  I  may 
find  it  more  difficult  on  another  occasion.' 

I  must  give  one  sentence  from  a  letter  written  about  this 
time,  as  it  shows  distinctly  the  clear  strong  sense  of  the 
writer. 

was  amused  by  what  she^  says  respecting  her  wish 
that,  when  she  marries,  her  husband  will,  at  least,  have  a 

^  The  reference  is  to  a  Miss  Amelia  Ringrose,  who  married  Joseph 
Taylor,  one  of  Mary  Taylor's  brothers. 


334  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

will  of  his  own,  even  should  he  be  a  tyrant.  Tell  her,  when 
she  forms  that  aspiration  again,  she  must  make  it  condi- 
tional :  if  her  husband  has  a  strong  will,  he  must  also  have 
a  strong  sense,  a  kind  heart,  and  a  thoroughly  correct  notion 
of  justice ;  because  a  man  with  a  weah  brain  and  a  strong 
loill  is  merely  an  intractable  brute  ;  you  can  have  no  hold 
of  him  ;  you  can  never  lead  him  right.  A  tyrant  under 
any  circumstanceB  is  a  curse.^ 

Meanwhile  '  The  Professor '  had  met  with  many  refusals 
from  different  publishers  ;  some,  I  have  reason  to  believe, 
not  over-courteously  worded  in  writing  to  an  unknown 
author,  and  none  alleging  any  distinct  reasons  for  its  re- 
jection. Courtesy  is  always  due  ;  but  it  is,  perhaps,  hardly 
to  be  expected  that,  in  the  press  of  business  in  a  great 
publishing  house,  they  should  find  time  to  explain  why  they 
decline  particular  works.  Yet,  though  one  course  of  action 
is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  the  opposite  may  fall  upon  a  grieved 
and  disappointed  mind  with  all  the  graciousness  of  dew  ; 
and  I  can  well  sympathise  with  the  published  account 
which  ^Currer  Beir  gives  of  the  feelings  experienced  on 
reading  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.^s  letter  containing  the 
rejection  of  ^The  Professor.' 

'  As  a  forlorn  hope  we  tried  one  publishing  house  more. 
Ere  long,  in  a  much  shorter  space  than  that  on  which  ex- 
perience had  taught  him  to  calculate,  there  came  a  letter, 
which  he  opened  in  the  dreary  anticipation  of  finding  two 
hard,  hopeless  lines,  intimating  that  ''Messrs.  Smith,  Elder, 
&  Co.  were  not  disposed  to  publish  the  MS.,''  and,  instead, 
he  took  out  of  the  envelope  a  letter  of  two  pages.  He  read 
it  trembling.  It  declined,  indeed,  to  publish  that  tale  for 
business  reasons,  but  it  discussed  its  merits  and  demerits 
so  courteously,  so  considerately,  in  a  spirit  so  rational,  with 
a  discrimination  so  enlightened,  that  this  very  refusal 
cheered  the  author  better  than  a  vulgarly  expressed  accept- 
ance would  have  done.  It  was  added  that  a  work  in  three 
volumes  would  meet  with  careful  attention.' 

Mr.  Smith  has  told  me  a  little  circumstance  connected 


1847       UNINITIATED  IN  PUBLISHERS'  WAYS  335 


with  the  reception  of  this  manuscript,  which  seems  to  me 
indicative  of  no  ordinary  character.  It  came  (accompanied 
by  the  note  given  below)  in  a  brown  paper  parcel  to  65 
Cornhill.  Besides  the  address  to  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder,  & 
Co.  there  were  on  it  those  of  other  publishers  to  whom  the 
tale  had  been  sent,  not  obliterated,  but  simply  scored 
through,  so  that  Mr.  Smith  at  once  perceived  the  names  of 
some  of  the  houses  in  the  trade  to  which  the  unlucky  parcel 
had  gone  without  success. 

TO  MESSES.  SMITH  AKD  ELDER. 

•  July  1«,  1847. 

^  Gentlemen, — I  beg  to  submit  to  your  consideration  the 
accompanying  manuscript.  I  should  be  glad  to  learn 
whether  it  be  such  as  you  approve,  and  would  undertake 
to  publish  at  as  early  a  period  as  possible.  Address,  Mr. 
Currer  Bell,  under  cover  to  Miss  Bronte,  Haworth,  Brad- 
ford, Yorkshire.^ 

Some  time  elapsed  before  an  answer  was  returned. 

A  little  circumstance  may  be  mentioned  here,  though  it 
belongs  to  a  somewhat  earlier  period,  as  showing  Miss 
Brontes  inexperience  of  the  ways  of  the  world,  and  willing 
deference  to  the  opinions  of  others.  She  had  written  to  a 
publisher  about  one  of  her  manuscripts,  which  she  had 
sent  him,  and,  not  receiving  any  reply,  she  consulted  her 
brother  as  to  what  could  be  the  reason  for  the  prolonged 
silence.  He  at  once  set  it  down  to  her  not  having  enclosed 
a  postage-stamp  in  her  letter.  She  accordingly  wrote  again, 
to  repair  her  former  omission,  and  apologize  for  it. 

TO  MESSRS.  SMITH  AND  ELDER. 

*  August  2, 1847. 

^Gentlemen, — About  three  weeks  since  I  sent  for  your 
consideration  a  MS.  entitled  ^^The  Professor,  a  tale  by 
Currer  Bell.^'  I  should  be  glad  to  know  whether  it  reached 
your  hands  safely,  and  likewise  to  learn,  at  your  earliest 


336 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


convenience,  whether  it  be  such  as  you  can  undertake  to 
publish. — I  am,  Gentlemen,  yours  respectfully, 

'  CuRRER  Bell. 

enclose  a,  directed  cover  for  your  reply.^ 

This  time  her  note  met  with  a  prompt  answer ;  for,  four 
days  later,  she  writes  (in  reply  to  the  letter  which  she  after- 
wards characterised  in  the  Preface  to  the  second  edition  of 
^  Wuthering  Heights  ^  as  containing  a  refusal  so  delicate, 
reasonable,  and  courteous  as  to  be  more  cheering  than 
some  acceptances) — 

^  Your  objection  to  the  want  of  varied  interest  in  the  tale 
is,  I  am  aware,  not  without  grounds  ;  yet  it  appears  to  me 
that  it  might  be  published  without  serious  risk,  if  its  ap- 
pearance were  speedily  followed  up  by  another  work  from 
the  same  pen,  of  a  more  striking  and  exciting  character. 
The  first  work  might  serve  as  an  introduction,  and  accus- 
tom the  public  to  the  author^s  name  ;  the  success  of  the 
second  might  thereby  be  rendered  more  probable.  I  have 
a  second  narrative  in  three  volumes,  now  in  progress,  and 
nearly  completed,  to  which  I  have  endeavored  to  impart 
a  more  vivid  interest  than  belongs  to  The  Professor. 
In  about  a  month  I  hope  to  finish  it,  so  that  if  a  pub- 
lisher were  found  for  ^'The  Professor  the  second  nar- 
rative might  follow  as  soon  as  was  deemed  advisable  ; 
and  thus  the  interest  of  the  public  (if  any  interest  was 
aroused)  might  not  be  suffered  to  cool.  Will  you  be 
kind  enough  to  favour  me  with  your  judgment  on  this 
plan?^ 

While  the  minds  of  the  three  sisters  were  in  this  state  of 
suspense  their  long-expected  friend  came  to  pay  her  prom- 
ised visit.  She  was  with  them  at  the  beginning  of  the 
glowing  August  of  that  year.  They  were  out  on  the 
moors  for  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  basking  in  the  gold- 
en sunshine,  which  was  bringing  on  an  unusual  plenteous- 
ness  of  harvest,  for  which,  somewhat  later,  Charlotte  ex- 
pressed her  earnest  desire  that  there  should  be  a  thanksgiv- 


HAWORTH  MOOR — SHOWING  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE'S  CHAIR. 


IINIVEKSITY  of  llLlNOib 


1^7 


'JANE  EYRE' 


337 


ing  service  in  all  the  cliurches.  August  was  the  season 
of  glory  for  the  neighbourhood  of  Haworth.  Even  the 
smoke^  lying  the  valley  between  that  village  and  Keigh- 
ley,  took  beauty  from  the  radiant  colours  on  the  moors 
above,  the  rich  purpfe  of  the  heather  bloom  calling  out 
an  harmonious  contrast  in  the  tawny  golden  light  that, 
in  the  full  heat  of  summer  evenings,  comes  stealing 
everywhere  through  the  dun  atmosphere  of  the  hollows. 
And  up  on  the  moors,  turning  away  from  all  habita- 
tions of  men,  the  royal  ground  on  which  they  stood 
would  expand  into  long  swells  of  amethyst  -  tinted  hills, 
melting  away  into  aerial  tints ;  and  the  fresh  and  fragrant 
scent  of  the  heather,  and  the  *  murmur  of  innumerable 
bees,"  would  lend  a  poignancy  to  the  relish  with  which 
they  welcomed  their  friend  to  their  own  true  home  on  the 
wild  and  open  hills. 

There,  too,  they  could  escape  from  the  Shadow  in  the 
house  below. 

Throughout  this  time — during  all  these  confidences — not 
a  word  was  uttered  to  their  friend  of  the  three  tales  in 
London — two  accepted  and  in  the  press,  one  trembling  in 
the  balance  of  a  publisher's  judgment — nor  did  she  hear  of 
that  other  story,  ^nearly  completed,'  lying  in  manuscript 
in  the  grey  old  parsonage  down  below.  She  might  have 
her  suspicions  that  they  all  wrote  with  an  intention  of 
publication  some  time;  but  she  knew  the  bounds  which 
they  set  to  themselves  in  their  communications;  nor  could 
she,  nor  any  one  else,  wonder  at  their  reticence,  when  re- 
membering how  scheme  after  scheme  had  failed,  just  as  it 
seemed  close  upon  accomplishment. 

Mr.  Bronte,  too,  had  his  suspicions  of  something  going 
on;  but,  never  being  spoken  to,  he  did  not  speak  on  the 
subject,  and  consequently  his  ideas  were  vague  and  uncer- 
tain, only  just  prophetic  enough  to  keep  him  from  being 
actually  stunned  when,  later  on,  he  heard  of  the  success 
of  ^Jane  Eyre,^  to  the  progress  of  which  we  must  now 
return. 
22 


338 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


TO  MESSRS.  SMITH  AND  ELDER. 

'August  24. 

now  send  you  per  rail  a  MS.  entitled  Jane  Eyre/'  a 
novel  in  three  volumes,  by  Currer  Bell.  L  find  I  cannot 
prepay  the  carriage  of  the  parcel,  as  money  for  that  purpose 
is  not  received  at  the  small  station-house  where  it  is  left. 
If,  when  you  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  the  MS.,  you 
would  have  the  goodness  to  mention  the  amount  charged 
on  delivery,  I  will  immediately  transmit  it  in  postage- 
stamps.  It  is  better  in  future  to  address  Mr.  Currer  Bell, 
under  cover  to  Miss  Bronte,  Haworth,  Bradford,  York- 
shire, as  there  is  a  risk  of  letters  otherwise  directed  not 
reaching  me  at  present.  To  save  trouble,  I  enclose  an  en- 
velope.^ ^ 

1  The  letters  of  Charlotte  Broute  are  now  mainly  contained  in  Mrs. 
Gaskell's  biography  and  Charlotte  Bronte  and  her  Circle.  Conditions 
of  space  would  have  made  it  impracticable,  even  were  it  otherwise 
desirable,  to  incorporate  all  Miss  Bronte's  letters  in  the  notes  to  this 
volume.  Through  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  George  Smith,  of  Messrs.  Smith, 
Elder,  &  Co.,  I  am  enabled,  however,  to  add  a  number  of  hitherto  un- 
published letters  to  Mrs.  Gaskell's  narrative,  of  which  one  dated  Sep- 
tember 24  comes  first  in  chronological  order  : — 

TO  SMITH,  ELDER,  AND  CO. 

'  Gentlemen, — I  have  to  thank  you  for  punctuating  the  sheets  before 
sending  them  to  me,  as  I  found  the  task  very  puzzling,  and,  besides, 
I  consider  your  mode  of  punctuation  a  great  deal  more  correct  and 
rational  than  my  own.  I  am  glad  you  think  pretty  well  of  the  first 
part  of  Jane  Eyre,  and  I  trust,  both  for  your  sakes  and  my  own,  the 
public  may  think  pretty  well  of  it  too. 

'  Henceforth  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  return  the  sheets  promptly  and 
regularly. — I  am,  Gentlemen,  yours  respectfully,  C.  Bell.' 

On  September  29  she  wrote  again— 

*  Gentlemen,— I  trust  you  will  be  able  to  get  Jane  Eyre  out  next 
month.  Have  the  goodness  to  continue  to  send  the  sheets  of  the  third 
vol.  along  with  those  of  the  second. 

*  I  again  thank  you  for  your  attention  in  punctuating  the  sheets. — 
I  am.  Gentlemen,  yours  respectfully,  C.  Bell.' 


1847 


*JANE  EYRE 


339 


^  Jane  Eyre^  was  accepted,  and  printed  and  published  by 
October  16/ 

While  it  was  in  the  press  Miss  Bronte  went  to  pay  a 
short  visit  to  her  friend  at  B(rookroyd).  The  proofs  were 
forwarded  to  her  there,  and  she  occasionally  sat  at  the 
same  table  with  her  friend,  correcting  them ;  but  they  did 
not  exchange  a  word  on  the  subject. 

Immediately  on  her  return  to  the  Parsonage  she  wrote — 

*  September. 

^  I  had  a  very  wet,  windy  walk  home  from  Keighley ;  but 
my  fatigue  quite  disappeared  when  I  reached  home,  and 
found  all  well.    Thank  God  for  it. 

^  My  boxes  came  safe  this  morning.  I  have  distributed 
the  presents.  Papa  says  I  am  to  remember  him  most  kind- 
ly to  you.  The  screen  will  be  very  useful,  and  he  thanks 
you  for  it.  Tabby  was  charmed  with  her  cap.  She  said 
^^she  never  thought  o^  naught  o^  t'  sort  as  Miss  sending 
her  aught,  and,  she  is  sure,  she  can  never  thank  her  enough 
for  it.^^  I  was  infuriated  on  finding  a  jar  in  my  trunk. 
At  first  I  hoped  it  was  empty,  but  when  I  found  it  heavy 
and  replete,  I  could  have  hurled  it  all  the  way  back  to 
(B)irstall.  However,  the  inscription  A.  B.  softened  me 
much.  It  was  at  once  kind  and  villanous  in  you  to  send 
it:  You  ought  first  to  be  tenderly  kissed,  and  then  after- 
wards as  tenderly  whipped.  Emily  is  just  now  on  the 
floor  of  the  bedroom  where  I  am  writing,  looking  at  her 
apples.  She  smiled  when  I  gave  the  collar  to  her  as  your 
present,  with  an  expression  at  once  well  pleased  and  slightly 
surprised.  All  send  their  love. — Yours  in  a  mixture  of 
anger  and  love.^ 

When  the  manuscript  of  ^  Jane  Eyre  ^  had  been  received 
by  the  future  publishers  of  that  remarkable  novel,  it  fell  to 

*  It  was  in  three  volumes,  and  the  title-page  ran  as  follows : — 

*  Jane  Eyre:  an  Autobiography.  Edited  by  Currer  BelL  In  Three 
Volumes.    London:  Smith,  Elder,  <&  Co.,  Cornhill.  1847.* 


340 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


the  share  of  a  gentleman  connected  with  the  firm  to  read 
it  first.  ^  He  was  so  powerfully  struck  by  the  character  of 
the  tale  that  he  reported  his  impression  in  very  strong 
terms  to  Mr.  Smith,  who  appears  to  have  been  much 
amused  by  the  admiration  excited.  ^You  seem  to  have 
been  so  enchanted  that  I  do  not  know  how  to  believe  you/ 
he  laughingly  said.  But  when  a  second  reader,  in  the  per- 
son of  a  clear-headed  Scotchman/  not  given  to  enthusiasm, 
had  taken  the  manuscript  home  in  the  evening,  and  be- 
came so  deeply  interested  in  it  as  to  sit  up  half  the  night 
to  finish  it,  Mr.  Smith's  curiosity  was  sufficiently  excited 
to  prompt  him  to  read  it  for  himself  ;  and  great  as  were 
the  praises  which  had  been  bestowed  upon  it,  he  found 
that  they  had  not  exceeded  the  truth.  ^ 
N  On  its  publication  copies  were  presented  to  a  few  pri- 
vate literary  friends.  Their  discernment  had  been  rightly 
reckoned  upon.  They  were  of  considerable  standing  in  the 
world  of  letters;  and  one  and  all  returned  expressions  of  high 
praise  along  with  their  thanks  for  the  book.  Among  them 
was  the  great  writer  of  fiction  for  whom  Miss  Bronte  felt 
so  strong  an  admiration;*  he  immediately  appreciated  and, 
in  a  characteristic  note  to  the  publishers,  acknowledged  its 
extraordinary  merits. 

The  Reviews  were  more  tardy,  or  more  cautious.  The 

»  Mr.  William  Smith  Williams  (1800-1875)  was  the  literary  adviser 
to  the  firm  of  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.  for  many  years.  From  this  time 
forward  he  became  a  regular  correspondent  of  Miss  Bronte,  and  the 
most  interesting  letters  that  she  wrote — of  those  that  have  been  pre- 
served— are  addressed  to  him.  This  was  partially  due  to  the  fact  that 
he  lent  her  books  with  considerable  regularity,  and  thus  provoked 
comment  upon  her  reading. 

2  The  *  clear-headed  Scotchman '  was  Mr.  James  Taylor,  who  held  a 
position  of  considerable  responsibility  in  the  firm  of  Smith,  Elder,  & 
Co.,  and  whose  name  we  meet  many  times  in  later  pages.  See  note, 
p.  525. 

^  *  There  will  be  no  preface  to  Jane  Eyre,'  Miss  Bronte  writes  to 
Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.  on  October  29.  *  If  you  send  me  six  copies  of 
the  work  they  will  be  amply  sufficient,  and  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you 
for  them.*  ^  Thackeray. 


1847 


*JANE  EYRE' 


341 


'  Athenaeum '  and  the  ^  Spectator  '  gave  short  notices,  con- 
taining qualified  admissions  of  the  power  of  the  author. 
The  ^Literary  Gazette '  was  uncertain  as  to  whether  it  was 
safe  to  praise  an  unknown  author.  The  ^  Daily  News  '  de- 
clined accepting  the  copy  which  had  been  sent,  on  the  score 
of  a  rule  ^  never  to  review  novels  but  a  little  later  on 
there  appeared  a  notice  of  the  ^  Bachelor  of  the  Albany' 
in  that  paper ;  and  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.  again  for- 
warded a  copy  of  ^  Jane  Eyre  '  to  the  editor,  with  a  request 
for  a  notice.  This  time  the  work  was  accepted  ;  but  I  am 
not  aware  what  was  the  character  of  the  article  upon  it.* 

The  ^Examiner'  came  forward  to  the  rescue,  as  far  as 
the  opinions  of  professional  critics  were  concerned.  The 
literary  articles  in  that  paper  were  always  remarkable  for 
their  genial  and  generous  appreciation  of  merit;  nor  w^as 
the  notice  of  ^  Jane  Eyre  ^  an  exception ;  it  was  full  of 
hearty  yet  delicate  and  discriminating  praise.  Otherwise 
the  press  in  general  did  little  to  promote  the  sale  of  the 
novel ;  the  demand  for  it  among  librarians  had  begun  be- 
fore the  appearance  of  the  review  in  the  ^Examiner;'  the 
power  and  fascination  of  the  tale  itself  made  its  merits  known 
to  the  public  without  the  kindly  finger-posts  of  professional 
criticism ;  and  early  in  December  the  rush  began  for  copies. 

I  will  insert  two  or  three  of  Miss  Bronte^'s  letters  to  her 
publishers,^  in  order  to  show  how  timidly  the  idea  of  suc- 
cess was  received  by  one  so  unaccustomed  to  adopt  a  san- 
guine view  of  any  subject  in  which  she  was  individually 

*  The  magazines  were  snfficienlly  generous  of  praise.  The  sec- 
ond edition  of  Jane  Eyre,  published  in  1848,  contains  seven  pages  of 
'  opinions  of  the  press.'  *  Decidedly  the  best  novel  of  the  season/  was 
the  comment  of  the  Westminster  Review.  '  Almost  all  that  we  require 
in  a  novelist  the  writer  has — perception  of  character  and  power  of  de- 
lineating it,  picturesqueness,  passion,  and  knowledge  of  life/  was  Mr. 
George  Henry  Lewes's  estimate  in  Fraser. 

'^Almost  simultaneously  she  was  writing  to  Mr.  Smith  Williams,  as 
the  following  letter  indicates  :— 

*  October  4,  1847. 

*  Dear  Sir, — I  thank  you  sincerely  for  your  last  letter.  It  is  valu- 
able to  me  because  it  furnishes  me  with  a  sound  opinion  on  points  re- 


342 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


concerned.  The  occasions  on  which  these  notes  were  writ- 
ten will  explain  themselves. 

TO  MESSRS.  SMITH,  ELDER,  AKD  CO. 

*  October  19,  1847. 
'Gentlemen, — The  six  copies  of  ''Jane  Eyre"^  reached 

me  this  morning.  You  have  given  the  work  every  advan- 
tage which  good  paper,  clear  type,  and  a  seemly  outside 
can  supply :  if  it  fails  the  fault  will  lie  with  the  author ; 
you  are  exempt. 

'  I  now  await  the  judgment  of  the  press  and  the  public. 
— I  am.  Gentlemen,  yours  respectfully,  C.  Bell.^ 

TO  MESSRS.  SMITH,  ELDER,  A^B  CO. 

*  October  26,  1847. 
'Gentlemen,  —  I  have  received  the  newspapers.  They 

speak  quite  as  favourably  of  "Jane  Eyre^'  as  I  expected 
them  to  do.  The  notice  in  the  "  Literary  Gazette^'  seems 
certainly  to  have  been  indited  in  rather  a  flat  mood,  and 
the  "Athenaeum"^  has  a  style  of  its  own,  which  I  respect, 
but  cannot  exactly  relish  ;  still,  when  one  considers  that 
journals  of  that  standing  have  a  dignity  to  maintain  which 
would  be  deranged  by  a  too  cordial  recognition  of  the 

specting  which  I  desired  to  be  advised  ;  be  assured  I  shall  do  what  I 
can  to  profit  by  your  wise  and  good  counsel. 

*  Permit  me,  however,  Sir,  to  caution  you  against  forming  too  favour- 
able an  idea  of  my  powers,  or  too  sanguine  an  expectation  of  what  they 
can  achieve.  I  am  myself  sensible  both  of  deficiencies  of  capacity  and 
disadvantages  of  circumstance  which  will,  I  fear,  render  it  somewhat 
difficult  for  me  to  attain  popularity  as  an  author.  The  eminent  writ- 
ers you  mention — Mr.  Thackeray,  Mr.  Dickens,  Mrs.  Marsh,  &c. — 
doubtless  enjoyed  facilities  for  observation  such  as  I  have  not ;  cer- 
tainly they  possess  a  knowledge  of  the  world,  whether  intuitive  or  ac- 
quired, such  as  I  can  lay  no  claim  to,  and  this  gives  their  writings  an 
importance  and  a  variety  greatly  beyond  what  I  can  offer  the  public. 

*  Still,  if  health  be  spared  and  time  vouchsafed  me,  I  mean  to  do  my 
best ;  and  should  a  moderate  success  crown  my  efforts  its  value  will  be 
greatly  enhanced  by  the  proof  it  will  seem  to  give  that  your  kind 
counsel  and  encouragement  have  not  been  bestowed  on  one  quite  un- 
worthy.— Yours  respectfully,  C.  Bell.* 


1847 


'JANE  EYRE' 


343 


claims  of  an  obscure  author,  I  suppose  there  is  every  rea- 
son to  be  satisfied. 

^  Meantime  a  brisk  sale  wonld  be  effectual  support  under 
the  liaideur  of  lofty  critics. — I  am.  Gentlemen,  yours  re- 
spectfully, C.  Bell.' 

TO  MESSRS.  SMITH,  ELDER,  AISTD  CO. 

'  Nov.  13,  1847. 

^  Gentlemen,  —  I  have  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of 
yours  of  the  11th  inst.,  and  to  thank  you  for  the  informa- 
tion it  communicates.  The  notice  from  the  People's 
Journal^'  also  duly  reached  me,  and  this  morning  I  re- 
ceived the  Spectator. The  critique  in  the  Spectator'' 
gives  that  view  of  the  book  which  will  naturally  be  taken 
by  a  certain  class  of  minds  ;  ^  I  shall  expect  it  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  other  notices  of  a  similar  nature.  The  way  to 
detraction  has  been  pointed  out,  and  will  probably  be  pur- 
sued. Most  future  notices  will  in  all  likelihood  have  a  re- 
flection of  the  Spectator"  in  them.  I  fear  this  turn  of 
opinion  will  not  improve  the  demand  for  the  book — but 
time  will  show.  If  ^^Jane  Eyre has  any  solid  worth  in 
it,  it  ought  to  weather  a  gust  of  unfavourable  wind. — I  am, 
Gentlemen,  yours  respectfully,  0.  Bell.'^ 

TO  MESSRS.  SMITH,  ELDER,  AKD  CO. 

*  Nov  30,  1847. 

^  Gentlemen, — I  have  received  the  Economist,"  but  not 
the    Examiner ;"  from  some  cause  that  paper  has  missed, 

*  'The  book,'  says  the  Spectator,  'displays  considerable  skill  ia  the 
plan,  and  great  power,  but  rather  shown  in  the  writing  than  in  the 
matter  ;  and  its  vigour  sustains  a  species  of  interest  to  the  last.' 
2  On  November  27  Miss  Bronte  writes  to  Mr.  W.  Smith  Williams— 
'  Dear  Sir,— Will  you  have  the  goodness  in  future  to  direct  all  com- 
munications to  me  to  Haworth,  near  Keiglileyy  instead  of  to  Bradford? 
With  this  address  they  will,  owing  to  alterations  in  local  post-office 
arrangements,  reach  me  a  day  earlier  than  if  sent  by  Bradford.  I 
have  received  this  week  the  Glasgow  Examiner,  the  Bath  Herald,  and 
Douglas  JerroWs  Newspaper.  The  Examiner,  it  appears,  has  not  yet 
given  a  notice.      I  am,  dear  Sir,  yours  respectfully,      C.  Bell.' 


344  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


as  the    Spectator    did  on  a  former  occasion  ;  I  am  glad, 
however,  to  learn  through  your  letter  that  its  notice  of 
Jane  Eyre^"*  was  favourable,  and  also  that  the  prospects 
of  the  work  appear  to  improve. 

^  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  the  information  respecting 
Wuthering  Heights/^ — I  am,  gentlemen,  yours  respect- 
fully, C.  Bell/ 

TO  MESSRS.  SMITH,  ELDER,  AKD  CO. 

'  Dec.  1,  1847. 

^Gentlemen, — The  Examiner"  reached  me  to-day:  it 
had  been  missent  on  account  of  the  direction,  which  was 
to  Currer  Bell,  care  of  Miss  Bronte.  Allow  me  to  intimate 
that  it  would  be  better  in  future  not  to  put  the  name  of 
Currer  Bell  on  the  outside  of  communications  ;  if  directed 
simply  to  Miss  Bronte  they  will  be  more  likely  to  reach 
their  destination  safely.  Currer  Bell  is  not  known  in  the 
district,  and  I  have  no  wish  that  he  should  become  known. 
The  notice  in  the  Examiner"  gratified  me  very  much  ;  it 
appears  to  be  from  the  pen  of  an  able  man  who  has  under- 
stood what  he  undertakes  to  criticise ;  of  course  approba- 
tion from  such  a  quarter  is  encouraging  to  an  author,  and 
I  trust  it  will  prove  beneficial  to  the  work. — I  am,  gentle- 
men, yours  respectfully,  C.  Bell. 

'  I  received  likewise  seven  other  notices  from  provincial 
papers  enclosed  in  an  envelope.  I  thank  you  very  sincerely 
for  so  punctually  sending  me  all  the  various  criticisms  on 

Jane  Eyre."' 

TO  MESSRS.  SMITH,  ELDER,  AKD  CO. 

*  Dec.  10,  1847. 

'  Gentlemen, — I  beg  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  your 
letter  enclosing  a  bank  post  bill,  for  which  I  thank  you. 
Having  already  expressed  my  sense  of  your  kind  and  up- 
right conduct,  I  can  now  only  say  that  I  trust  you  will 
always  have  reason  to  be  as  well  content  with  me  as  I  am 
with  you.    If  the  result  of  any  future  exertions  I  may  be 


mi 


SUCCESS  OF  UANE  EYRE' 


345 


a'ole  to  make  should  prove  agreeable  and  advantageous  to 
you^  I  shall  be  well  satisfied ;  and  it  would  be  a  serious 
source  of  regret  to  me  if  I  thought  you  ever  had  reason  to 
repent  being  my  publishers. 

^  You  need  not  apologise,  gentlemen,  for  having  written 
to  me  so  seldom ;  of  course  I  am  always  glad  to  hear  from 
you,  but  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  from  Mr.  Williams  like- 
wise ;  he  was  my  first  favourable  critic ;  he  first  gave  me 
encouragement  to  persevere  as  an  author,  consequently  I 
naturally  respect  him  and  feel  grateful  to  him. 

'Excuse  the  informality  of  my  letter,  and  believe  me, 
gentlemen,  yours  respectfully,  Currer  Bell." 

There  is  little  record  remaining  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  first  news  of  its  wonderful  success  reached  and  affected 
the  one  heart  of  the  three  sisters.^  I  once  asked  Charlotte 
— we  were  talking  about  the  description  of  Lowood  School, 
and  she  was  saying  that  she  was  not  sure  whether  she  should 
have  written  it  if  she  had  been  aware  how  instantaneously 
it  would  have  been  identified  with  Cowan  Bridge' — whether 

^  Another  letter  of  this  period,  hitherto  unpublished,  may  be  given 
here.  The  reference  is,  of  course,  to  Leigh  Hunt's  Jai'  of  Honey  from 
Mount  Hyhla,  of  which  an  early  copy  of  the  first  edition  must  have 
been  sent  to  Miss  Bronte.    The  book  was  first  published  in  1848  : — 

TO  MESSRS.  SMITH,  ELDER,  AND  CO. 

*  December  25,  1847. 

'Gentlemen,  —  Permit  me  to  thank  you  for  your  present,  which 
reached  me  yesterday.  I  was  not  prepared  for  anything  so  truly  taste- 
ful, and  when  I  had  opened  the  parcel,  removed  the  various  envelopes, 
and  at  last  got  a  glimpse  of  the  chastely  attractive  binding,  I  was  most 
agreeably  surprised.  What  is  better,  on  examination  I  find  the  con- 
tents fully  to  answer  the  expectation  excited  by  the  charming  exte- 
rior ;  the  Honey  is  quite  as  choice  as  the  Jar  is  elegant.  The  illustra- 
tions too  are  very  beautiful,  some  of  them  peculiarly  so.  I  trust  the 
public  will  show  itself  grateful  for  the  pains  you  have  taken  to  provide 
a  book  so  appropriate  to  the  seas'^n.  C.  Bell.' 

2  'Jane  Eyre  has  got  down  into  Yorkshire,'  writes  Miss  Bronte  to 
Mr.  Williams  under  date  January  4, 1848  ;  '  a  copy  has  even  pene- 
trated into  this  neighbourhood.  I  saw  ?,n  elderly  clergyman  reading  it 


346 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


the  popularity  to  which  the  novel  attained  had  taken  her 
by  surprise.  She  hesitated  a  little,  and  then  said,  ^  I  be- 
lieved that  what  had  impressed  me  so  forcibly  when  I  wrote 
it  must  make  a  strong  impression  on  any  one  who  read  it.  I 
was  not  surprised  at  those  who  read  ^^Jane  Eyre'^  being 
deeply  interested  in  it;  but  I  hardly  expected  that  a  book 
by  an  unknown  author  could  find  readers.' 

The  sisters  had  kept  the  knowledge  of  their  literary  vent- 
ures from  their  father,  fearing  to  increase  their  own  anx- 
ieties and  disappointment  by  witnessing  his;  for  he  took 
an  acute  interest  in  all  that  befell  his  children,  and  his  own 
tendency  had  been  towards  literature  in  the  days  when 
he  was  young  and  hopeful.  It  was  true  he  did  not  much 
manifest  his  feelings  in  words ;  he  would  have  thought  that 
he  was  prepared  for  disappointment  as  the  lot  of  man,  and 
that  he  could  have  met  it  with  stoicism ;  but  words  are 
poor  and  tardy  interpreters  of  feelings  to  those  who  love 
one  another,  and  his  daughters  knew  how  he  would  have 
borne  ill-success  worse  for  them  than  for  himself.  So  they 
did  not  tell  him  what  they  were  undertaking.  He  says  now 
that  he  suspected  it  all  along,  but  his  suspicions  could  take 
no  exact  form,  as  all  he  was  certain  of  was  that  his  children 
were  perpetually  writing — and  not  writing  letters.  We  have 
seen  how  the  communications  from  their  publishers  were 
received  ^ under  cover  to  Miss  Bronte.'  Once,  Charlotte 
told  me,  they  overheard  the  postman  meeting  Mr.  Bronte, 
as  the  latter  was  leaving  the  house,  and  inquiring  from  the 

the  other  day,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  him  exclaim,  Why, 

they  have  got  School,  and  Mr.  here,  I  declare  !  and  Miss 

 (naming  the  originals  of  Lowood,  Mr.  Brocklehurst  and  Miss 

Temple).  He  had  known  them  all.  I  wondered  whether  he  would 
recognise  the  portraits,  and  was  gratified  to  find  that  he  did,  and  that, 
moreover,  he  pronounced  them  faithful  and  just.    He  said,  too,  that 

Mr.  (Brocklehurst)  "deserved  the  chastisement  he  had  got." 

*  He  did  not  recognise  Currer  BelL  What  author  would  be  with- 
out the  advantage  of  being  able  to  walk  invisible  ?  One  is  thereby 
enabled  to  keep  such  a  quiet  mind.  I  make  this  small  observation  in 
confidence.'  i 


1S47 


RECEPTION  OF  ^JANE  EYRE' 


347 


parsoPx  where  one  Currer  Bell  could  be  living,  to  which  Mr. 
Bronte  replied  that  there  was  no  such  person  in  the  par- 
ish. This  must  have  been  the  misadventure  to  which  Miss 
Bronte  alludes  in  the  beginning  of  her  correspondence  with 
Mr.  Aylott. 

Now,  however,  when  the  demand  for  the  work  had 
assured  success  to  '  Jane  Eyre/  her  sisters  urged  Charlotte 
to  tell  their  father  of  its  publication.  She  accordingly 
went  into  his  study  one  afternoon  after  his  early  dinner, 
carrying  with  her  a  copy  of  the  book,  and  two  or  three  re- 
views, taking  care  to  include  a  notice  adverse  to  it. 

She  informed  me  that  something  like  the  following  con- 
versation took  place  between  her  and  him.  (I  wrote  down 
her  words  the  day  after  I  heard  them,  and  I  am  pretty  sure 
they  are  quite  accurate.) 

^Papa,  Tve  been  writing  a  book.^ 

'  Have  you,  my  dear  T 

'  Yes  ;  and  I  want  you  to  read  it."" 

^  I  am  afraid  it  will  try  my  eyes  too  much.^ 

'  But  it  is  not  in  manuscript ;  it  is  printed.^ 

'  My  dear  !  youVe  never  thought  of  the  expense  it  will 
be  !  It  will  be  almost  sure  to  be  a  loss  ;  for  how  can  you 
get  a  book  sold  ?    No  one  knows  you  or  your  name.^ 

'  But,  papa,  I  don't  think  it  will  be  a  loss  ;  no  more  will 
you,  if  you  will  just  let  me  read  you  a  review  or  two,  and 
tell  you  more  about  it/ 

So  she  sat  down  and  read  some  of  the  reviews  to  her 
father  ;  and  then,  giving  him  the  copy  of  ^  Jane  Eyre""  that 
she  intended  for  him,  she  left  him  to  read  it.  When  he 
came  in  to  tea  he  said,  '  Girls,  do  you  know  Charlotte  has 
been  writing  a  book,  and  it  is  much  better  than  likely  T 

But  while  the  existence  of  Currer  Bell,  the  author,  was 
like  a  piece  of  a  dream  to  the  quiet  inhabitants  of  Ha  worth 
Parsonage,  who  went  on  with  their  uniform  household  life, 
their  cares  for  their  brother  being  its  only  variety  —  the 
whole  reading  world  of  England  was  in  a  ferment  to  dis- 
cover the  unknown  author.    Even  the  publishers  of  ^  Jane 


348 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Eyre"  were  ignorant  whether  Currer  Bell  was  a  real  or  an 
assumed  name,  whether  it  belonged  to  a  man  or  a  woman. 
In  every  town  people  sought  out  the  list  of  their  friends 
and  acquaintances,  and  turned  away  in  disappointment. 
No  one  they  knew  had  genius  enough  to  be  the  author. 
Every  little  incident  mentioned  in  the  book  was  turned 
this  way  and  that  to  answer,  if  possible,  the  much -vexed 
question  of  sex.  All  in  vain.  People  were  content  to  re- 
lax their  exertions  to  satisfy  their  curiosity,  and  simply  to 
sit  down  and  greatly  admire. 

I  am  not  going  to  write  an  analysis  of  a  book  with  which 
every  one  who  reads  this  biography  is  sure  to  be  acquainted  ; 
much  less  a  criticism  upon  a  work  which  the  great  flood  of 
public  opinion  has  lifted  up  from  the  obscurity  in  which  it 
first  appeared,  and  laid  high  and  safe  on  the  everlasting  hills 
of  fame. 

Before  me  lies  a  packet  of  extracts  from  newspapers  and 
periodicals,  which  Mr.  Bronte  has  sent  me.  It  is  touching 
to  look  them  over,  and  see  how  there  is  hardly  any  notice, 
however  short  and  clumsily  worded,  in  any  obscure  provin- 
cial paper,  but  what  has  been  cut  out  and  carefully  ticketed 
with  its  date  by  the  poor  bereaved  father — so  proud  when 
he  first  read  them,  so  desolate  now.  For  one  and  all  are 
full  of  praise  of  this  great  unknown  genius,  which  suddenly 
appeared  amongst  us.  Conjecture  as  to  the  authorship  ran 
about  like  wild-fire.  People  in  London,  smooth  and  pol- 
ished as  the  Athenians  of  old,  and,  like  them,  ^  spending 
their  time  in  nothing  else  but  either  to  tell  or  to  hear  some 
new  thing/  were  astonished  and  delighted  to  find  that  a 
fresh  sensation,  a  new  pleasure,  was  in  reserve  for  them  in 
the  uprising  of  an  author  capable  of  depicting  with  accurate 
and  Titanic  power  the  strong,  self-reliant,  racy,  and  indi- 
vidual characters  which  were  not,  after  all,  extinct  species, 
but  lingered  still  in  existence  in  the  North.  They  thought 
that  there  was  some  exaggeration  mixed  with  the  peculiar 
force  of  delineation.  Those  nearer  to  the  spot,  where  the 
scene  of  the  story  was  apparently  laid,  were  sure,  from  the 


1847 


ADMIRATION  FOR  THACKERAY  349 


very  truth  and  accuracy  of  the  writing,  that  the  writer  was 
no  Southron  ;  for  though  ^  dark,  and  cold,  and  rugged  is 
the  North/  the  old  strength  of  the  Scandinavian  races  yet 
abides  there,  and  glowed  out  in  every  character  depicted  in 
^  Jane  Eyre/  Further  than  this  curiosity,  both  honourable 
and  dishonourable,  was  at  fault. 

When  the  second  edition  appeared,  in  the  January  of  the 
following  year,  with  the  dedication  to  Mr.  Thackeray,  peo- 
ple looked  at  each  other  and  wondered  afresh.  But  Currer 
Bell  knew  no  more  of  William  Makepeace  Thackeray  as  an 
individual  man — of  his  life,  age,  fortunes,  or  circumstances 
— than  she  did  of  those  of  Mr.  Michael  Angelo  Titmarsh.^ 
The  one  had  placed  his  name  as  author  upon  the  title-page 
of  '  Vanity  Fair,^  the  other  had  not.  She  was  thankful  for 
the  opportunity  of  expressing  her  high  admiration  of  a 
writer  whom,  as  she  says,  she  regarded  ^as  the  social  re- 
generator of  his  day — as  the  very  master  of  that  working 
corps  who  would  restore  to  rectitude  the  warped  state  of 
things.  .  .  .  His  wit  is  bright,  his  humour  attractive,  but 
both  bear  the  same  relation  to  his  serious  genius  that  the 
mere  lambent  sheet-lightning,  playing  under  the  edge  of 
the  summer  cloud,  does  to  the  electric  death-spark  hid  in 
its  womb." 

Anne  Bronte  had  been  more  than  usually  delicate  all  the 
summer,  and  her  sensitive  spirit  had  been  deeply  affected 

^  Thackeray  sent  Vanity  Fair  and  Esmond  to  Miss  Bronte,  the  first 
'With  the  grateful  regards  of  W.  M.  Thackeray,  July  18,  1848,'  the 
second  inscribed,  *Miss  Bronte,  with  W.  M.  Thackeray's  grateful  re- 
gards. October  28,  1852.'  On  October  28,  1847,  Miss  Bronte  writes 
to  Mr.  Smith  Williams,  *  I  feel  honoured  in  being  approved  by  Mr. 
Thaclceray,  because  I  approve  Mr.  Thackeray.  This  may  sound  pre- 
sumptuous perhaps,  but  I  mean  that  I  have  long  recognised  in  his 
writings  genuine  talent,  such  as  I  admired,  such  as  I  wondered  at  and 
delighted  ia.  No  author  seems  to  distinguish  so  exquisitely  as  he  does 
dross  from  ore,  the  real  from  the  counterfeit.  I  believed  too  he  had 
deep  and  true  feelings  under  hiS  seeming  sternness.  Now  I  am  sure 
he  has.  One  good  word  from  such  a  man  is  worth  pages  of  praise 
from  ordinary  judges/ 


350 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


by  the  great  anxiety  of  her  .home.  But  now  that  ^  Jane 
Byre'  gave  such  indication^'  of  success  Charlotte  began  to 
plan  schemes  of  future  pleasure — perhaps  relaxation  from 
care  would  be  the  more  correct  expression — for  their  dar- 
ling younger  sister,  the  ^  little  one '  of  the  household.  But, 
although  Anne  was  cheered  for  a  time  by  Charlotte's  suc- 
cess, the  fact  was  that  neither  her  spirits  nor  her  bodily 
strength  were  such  as  to  incline  her  to  much  active  ex- 
ertion, and  she  led  far  too  sedentary  a  life,  continually 
stooping  either  over  her  book,  or  work,  or  at  her  desk. 
^It  is  with  difficulty,' writes  her  sister,  ^that  we  can  pre- 
vail upon  her  to  take  a  walk,  or  induce  her  to  converse.  I 
look  forward  to  next  summer  with  the  confident  intention 
that  she  shall,  if  possible,  make  at  least  a  brief  sojourn  at 
the  seaside.'  In  this  same  letter  is  a  sentence  telling  how 
dearly  home,  even  with  its  present  terrible  drawback,  lay 
at  the  roots  of  her  heart;  but  it  is  too  much  blended  with 
reference  to  the  affairs  of  others  to  bear  quotation. 

Any  author  of  a  successful  novel  is  liable  to  an  inroad  of 
letters  from  unknown  readers,  containing  commendation — 
sometimes  of  so  fulsome  and  indiscriminating  a  character 
as  to  remind  the  recipient  of  Dr.  Johnson's  famous  speech 
to  one  who  offered  presumptuous  and  injudicious  praise — 
sometimes  saying  merely  a  few  words,  which  have  power  to 
stir  the  heart  ^as  with  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,'  and  in  the 
high  humility  they  excite  to  call  forth  strong  resolutions 
to  make  all  future  efforts  worthy  of  such  praise ;  and  occa- 
sionally containing  that  true  appreciation  of  both  merits 
and  demerits,  together  with  the  sources  of  each,  which 
forms  the  very  criticism  and  help  for  which  an  inexperi- 
enced writer  thirsts.  Of  each  of  these  kinds  of  communi- 
cation Currer  Bell  received  her  full  share;  and  her  warm 
heart,  and  true  sense  and  high  standard  of  what  she  aimed 
at,  affixed  to  each  its  proper  value.  Among  other  letters 
of  hers  some  to  Mr.  G.  H.  Lewes  ^  have  been  kindly  placed 

^  George  Henry  Lewes  (1817-1878).    Published  Biographical  His- 


1847 


COREESPONDENCE 


351 


by  him  at  my  service ;  and,  as  I  know  Miss  Bronte  highly 
prized  his  letters  of  encouragement  and  advice,  I  shall  give 
extracts  from  her  replies,  as  their  dates  occur,  because  they 
will  indicate  the  kind  of  criticism  she  valued,  and  also  be- 
cause throughout,  in  anger  as  in  agreement  and  harmony, 
they  show  her  character,  unblinded  by  any  self -flattery, 
full  of  clear-sighted  modesty  as  to  what  she  really  did  well, 
and  what  she  failed  in,  grateful  for  friendly  interest,  and 
only  sore  and  irritable  when  the  question  of  sex  in  author- 
ship was,  as  she  thought,  roughly  or  unfairly  treated.  As 
to  the  rest,  the  letters  speak  for  themselves,  to  those  who 
know  how  to  listen,  far  better  than  I  can  interpret  their 
meaning  into  my  poorer  and  weaker  words.  Mr.  Lewes 
has  politely  sent  me  the  following  explanation  of  that  let- 
ter of  his  to  which  the  succeeding  one  of  Miss  Bronte  is  a 
reply  :— 

^When  '^Jane  Eyre  first  appeared,  the  publishers 
courteously  sent  me  a  copy.  The  enthusiasm  with  which 
I  read  it  made  me  go  down  to  Mr.  Parker,  and  propose  to 
write  a  review  of  it  for  "  Fraser^s  Magazine.^'  He  would 
not  consent  to  an  unknown  novel — for  the  papers  had  not 
yet  declared  themselves  —  receiving  such  importance,  but 
thought  it  might  make  one  on  Recent  Novels :  English 
and  French,"  which  appeared  in  Eraser, December 
1847.  Meanwhile  I  had  written  to  Miss  Bronte  to  tell  her 
the  delight  with  which  her  book  filled  me ;  and  seem  to 
have    sermonised    her,  to  judge  from  her  reply.* 

TO  G.  H.  LEWES,  ESQ. 

*  November  6.  1847. 

'  Dear  Sir, — Your  letter  reached  me  yesterday.  I  beg  to 
assure  you  that  I  appreciate  fully  the  intention  with  which 
it  was  written,  and  I  thank  you  sincerely  both  for  its  cheer- 
ful commendation  and  valuable  advice. 

tory  of  Philosophy,  1845-6 ;  Ranihorpe,  1847  ;  Rose,  Blanche  and  Violet, 
1848 ;  Life  of  Goethe,  1855  ;  Problems  of  Life  and  Mind,  1873-79,  and 
many  other  works. 


352 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


^  Yon  warn  me  to  beware  of  melodrama,  and  yon  exhort 
me  to  adhere  to  the  reaL  When  I  first  began  to  write,  so 
impressed  was  I  with  the  trnth  of  the  principles  you  advo- 
cate, that  I  determined  to  take  Nature  and  Truth  as  my 
sole  guides,  and  to  follow  to  their  very  footprints  ;  I  re- 
strained imagination,  eschewed  romance,  repressed  excite- 
ment ;  over-bright  colouring,  too,  I  avoided,  and  sought  to 
produce  something  which  should  be  soft,  grave,  and  true. 

^  My  work  (a  tale  in  one  volume)  being  completed,  I 
offered  it  to  a  publisher.  He  said  it  was  original,  faithful 
to  nature,  but  he  did  not  feel  warranted  in  accepting  it ; 
such  a  work  would  not  sell.  I  tried  six  publishers  in  suc- 
cession ;  they  all  told  me  it  was  deficient  in  startling 
incident'  and  thrilling  excitement/^  that  it  would  never 
suit  the  circulating  libraries,  and  as  it  was  on  those  libra- 
ries the  success  of  works  of  fiction  mainly  depended,  they 
could  not  undertake  to  publish  what  would  be  overlooked 
there. 

^^^Jane  Eyre"  was  rather  objected  to  at  first,  on  the 
same  grounds,  but  finally  found  acceptance. 

^  I  mention  this  to  you,  not  with  a  view  of  pleading  ex- 
emption from  censure,  but  in  order  to  direct  your  atten- 
tion to  the  root  of  certain  literary  evils.  If,  in  your  forth- 
coming article  in  Fraser,"  you  would  bestow  a  few  words 
of  enlightenment  on  the  public  who  support  the  circulat- 
ing libraries,  you  might,  with  your  powers,  do  some  good. 

^  You  advise  me,  too,  not  to  stray  far  from  the  ground  of 
experience,  as  I  become  weak  when  I  enter  the  region  of 
fiction  ;  and  you  say  real  experience  is  perennially  inter- 
esting, and  to  all  men.'^ 

^I  feel  that  this  also  is  true ;  but,  dear  sir,  is  not  the 
real  experience  of  each  individual  very  limited  ?  And,  if  a 
writer  dwells  upon  that  solely  or  principally,  is  he  not  in 
danger  of  repeating  himself,  and  also  of  becoming  an  ego- 
tist ?  Then,  too,  imagination  is  a  strong,  restless  faculty, 
which  claims  to  be  heard  and  exercised:  are  we  to  be  quite 
deaf  to  her  cry,  and  insensate  to  her  struggles  ?  When 


1^7 


CORRESPONDENCE 


353 


she  shows  us  bright  pictures,  are  we  never  to  look  at  them, 
and  try  to  reproduce  them  ?  And  when  she  is  eloquent, 
and  speaks  rapidly  and  urgently  in  our  ear,  are  we  not  to 
write  to  her  dictation  ? 

shall  anxiously  search  the  next  number  of  ^^Fraser'^ 
for  your  opinions  on  these  points.  Believe  me,  dear  sir, 
yours  gratefully,  C.  Bell." 

But  while  gratified  by  appreciation  as  an  author  she  was 
cautious  as  to  the  person  from  whom  she  received  it ;  for 
much  of  the  value  of  the  praise  depended  on  the  sincerity 
and  capability  of  the  person  rendering  it.  Accordingly  she 
applied  to  Mr.  Williams  (a  gentleman  connected  with  her 
publishers'  firm)  for  information  as  to  who  and  what  Mr. 
Lewes  was.  Her  reply,  after  she  had  learnt  something  of 
the  character  of  her  future  critic,  and  while  awaiting  his 
criticism,  must  not  be  omitted.  Besides  the  reference  to 
him  it  contains  some  amusing  allusions  to  the  perplexity 
which  began  to  be  excited  respecting  the  ^identity  of  the 
brothers  Bell,'  and  some  notice  of  the  conduct  of  another 
publisher  towards  her  sister,  which  I  refrain  from  charac- 
terising, because  I  understand  that  truth  is  considered  a 
libel  in  speaking  of  such  people. 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ. 

'  November  10,  1847. 
^Dear  Sir, — I  have  received  the     Britannia ''  and  the 
Sun,"  but  not  the     Spectator,''  which  I  rather  regret, 
as  censure,  though  not  pleasant,  is  often  wholesome. 

^  Thank  you  for  your  information  regarding  Mr.  Lewes. 
I  am  glad  to  hear  that  he  is  a  clever  and  sincere  man  :  such 
being  the  case,  I  can  await  his  critical  sentence  with  forti- 
tude ;  even  if  it  goes  against  me  I  shall  not  murmur ;  abil- 
ity and  honesty  have  a  right  to  condemn,  where  they  think 
condemnation  is  deserved.  From  what  you  say,  however, 
I  trust  rather  to  obtain  at  least  a  modified  approval. 

^Your  account  of  the  various  surmises  respecting  the 
23 


354 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


identity  of  the  brothers  Bell  amused  me  much :  were  the 
enigma  solved  it  would  probably  be  found  not  worth  the 
trouble  of  solution ;  but  I  will  let  it  alone :  it  suits  ourselves 
to  remain  quiet,  and  certainly  injures  no  one  else. 

^The  reviewer  who  noticed  the  little  book  of  poems,  in 
the  Dublin  Magazine/^  conjectured  that  the  soi-disant 
three  personages  were  in  reality  but  one,  who,  endowed 
with  an  unduly  prominent  organ  of  self-esteem,  and  conse- 
quently impressed  with  a  somewhat  weighty  notion  of  his 
own  merits,  thought  them  too  vast  to  be  concentrated  in 
a  single  individual,  and  accordingly  divided  himself  into 
three,  out  of  consideration,  I  suppose,  for  the  nerves  of  the 
much -to -be -astounded  public  !  This  was  an  ingenious 
thought  in  the  reviewer — very  original  and  striking,  but 
not  accurate.    We  are  three. 

prose  work,  by  Ellis  and  Acton,  will  soon  appear :  it 
should  have  been  out,  indeed,  long  since ;  for  the  first  proof 
sheets  were  already  in  the  press  at  the  commencement  of 
last  August,  before  Currer  Bell  had  placed  the  MS.  of 

Jane  Eyre^^  in  your  hands*  Mr.  Newby,  however,  does 
not  do  business  like  Messrs.  Smith  and  Elder;  a  different 
spirit  seems  to  preside  at  Mortimer  Street  to  that  which 
guides  the  helm  at  65  CornhilL  .  .  .  My  relations  have 
suffered  from  exhausting  delay  and  procrastination,  while 
I  have  to  acknowledge  the  benefits  of  a  management  at 
once  business-like  and  gentleman-like^  energetic  and  con- 
siderate. 

'  I  should  like  to  know  if  Mr.  Newby'  often  acts  as  he  has 

^  Thomas  Cautley  Newby  carried  on  business  as  a  publisher,  first  at 
72  Mortimer  Street,  Cavendish  Square,  whence  the  BrontC  books  were 
issued,  and  afterwards,  from  1850  to  1874,  at  30  Welbeck  Street.  Mrs. 
Riddell,  the  novelist,  has  described  Mr.  Newby  as  *a  spare  man  of 
middle  height,  who  used  to  travel"  round  to  the  country  libraries.* 
*  He  did  not,'  she  says,  *  stand  well  as  a  publisher.  One  of  h?s  brothen* 
said  to  me,  Were  I  you,  I  should  not  say  that  Newby  had  published 
anything  for  me."  *  It  is  not  the  least  humorous  aspect  of  Newby 's 
mysterious  career  that  Emily  Bronte's  Wuthering  Heights  shocked  him 
greatly. 


1847 


CORRESPONDENCE 


355 


done  to  my  relations,  or  Avhether  this  is  an  exceptional  in- 
stance of  his  method.  Do  you  know,  and  can  you  tell  me 
anything  about  him  ?  You  must  excuse  me  for  going  to  the 
point  at  once,  when  I  want  to  learn  anything:  if  my  ques- 
tions are  impertinent  you  are,  of  course,  at  liberty  to  decline 
answering  them. — I  am  yours  respectfully,       C.  Bell." 

TO  G.  H.   LEWES,  ESQ. 

*  November  22,  1847. 
^Dear  Sir, — I  have  now  read  ^^Eanthorpe."  I  could  not 
get  it  till  a  day  or  two  ago ;  but  I  have  got  it  and  read  it  at 
last ;  and  in  reading  "  Ranthorpe  I  have  read  a  new  book 
— not  a  reprint — not  a  reflection  of  any  other  book,  but  a 
7iew  book, 

did  not  know  such  books  were  written  now.  It  is 
very  different  to  any  of  the  popular  works  of  fiction:  it 
fills  the  mind  with  fresh  knowledge.  Your  experience  and 
your  convictions  are  made  the  reader^s  ;  and  to  an  author, 
at  least,  they  have  a  value  and  an  interest  quite  unusual. 
I  await  your  criticism  on  Jane  Eyre''^  now  with  other 
sentiments  than  I  entertained  before  the  perusal  of  Ran- 
thorpe. 

'  You  were  a  stranger  to  me.  I  did  not  particularly  re- 
spect you.  I  did  not  feel  that  your  praise  or  blame  would 
have  any  special  weight.  I  knew  little  of  your  right  to 
condemn  or  approve.  Noto  I  am  informed  on  these  points. 

'  You  will  be  severe  ;  your  last  letter  taught  me  as 
much.  Well !  I  shall  try  to  extract  good  out  of  your  se- 
verity ;  and  besides,  though  I  am  now  sure  you  are  a  just, 
discriminating  man,  yet,  being  mortal,  you  must  be  falli- 
ble ;  and  if  any  part  of  your  censure  galls  me  too  keenly 
to  the  quick — gives  me  deadly  pain — I  shall  for  the  pres- 
ent disbelieve  it,  and  put  it  quite  aside,  till  such  time  as 
I  feel  able  to  receive  it  without  torture. — I  am,  dear  sir, 
yours  very  respectfully,  0.  Bell.^ 

In  December  1847  ^Wuthering  Heights^  and  ^  Agnes 


356  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Grey^  appeared.^  The  first  named  of  these  stories  has 
revolted  many  readers  by  the  power  with  which  wicked 
and  exceptional  characters  are  depicted.  Others,  again, 
have  felt  the  attraction  of  remarkable  genius,  even  when 
displayed  on  grim  and  terrible  criminals.  Miss  Bronte 
herself  says,  with  regard  to  this  tale,  ^  Where  delineation 
of  human  character  is  concerned  the  case  is  different.  I 
am  bound  to  avow  that  she  had  scarcely  more  practical 
knowledge  of  the  peasantry  amongst  whom  she  lived  than 
a  nun  has  of  the  country  people  that  pass  her  convent 
gates.  My  sister's  disposition  was  not  naturally  gregari- 
ous :  circumstances  favoured  and  fostered  her  tendency 
to  seclusion  ;  except  to  go  to  church,  or  to  take  a  walk 
on  the  hills,  she  rarely  crossed  the  threshold  of  home. 
Though  her  feeling  for  the  people  round  her  was  benevo- 
lent, intercourse  with  them  she  never  sought,  nor,  with 
very  few  exceptions,  ever  experienced ;  and  yet  she  knew 
them,  knew  their  ways,  their  language,  their  family  his- 
tories; she  could  hear  of  them  with  interest,  and  talk  of 
them  with  detail,  minute,  graphic,  and  accurate  ;  but  with 
them  she  rarely  exchanged  a  word.  Hence  it  ensued  that 
what  her  mind  had  gathered  of  the  real  concerning  them 
was  too  exclusively  confined  to  those  tragic  and  terrible  traits 
of  which,  in  listening  to  the  secret  annals  of  every  rude 
vicinage,  the  memory  is  sometimes  compelled  to  receive 
the  impress.  Her  imagination,  which  was  a  spirit  more 
sombre  than  sunny — more  powerful  than  sportive — found 
in  such  traits  material  whence  it  wrought  creations  like 
Heathcliff,  like  Earnshaw,  like  Catherine.  Having  formed 
these  beings,  she  did  not  know  what  she  had  done.  If  the 
auditor  of  her  work,  when  read  in  manuscript,  shuddered 

^  The  book  containing  Wuthering  Heights  and  Agnes  Orey  was  in 
three  volumes.  The  title-pages  ran  as  follows  : — 

'  Wuthering  Heights :  a  Novel.  By  Ellis  Bell.  Vol.  I.  ( Vol.  II.) 
London:  Thomas  Cautley  Newby,  Publisher,  72  Mortimer  St.,  Caven- 
dish Sq.  1847.'  '  Agnes  Grey  :  a  Novel.  By  Acton  Bell.  Vol.  III.  Lon- 
don: Thomas  Cautley  Newby,  72  Mortimer  St.,  Cavendish  Sq.,  1847/ 


18i8 


DOMESTIC  DISTRESS 


357 


under  the  grinding  influence  of  natures  so  relentless  and 
implacable^  of  spirits  so  lost  and  fallen  ;  if  it  was  com- 
plained that  the  mere  hearing  of  certain  vivid  and  fearful 
scenes  banished  sleep  by  night,  and  disturbed  mental  peace 
by  day;,  Ellis  Bell  would  wonder  what  was  meant,  and  sus- 
pect the  complainant  of  affectation.  Had  she  but  lived,  her 
mind  would  of  itself  have  grown  like  a  strong  tree — loftier, 
straighter,  wider-spreading — and  its  matured  fruits  would 
have  attained  a  mellower  ripeness  and  sunnier  bloom  ;  but 
on  that  mind  time  and  experience  alone  could  work ;  to 
the  influence  of  other  intellects  it  was  not  amenable. 

Whether  justly  or  unjustly,  the  productions  of  the  two 
younger  Miss  Brontes  were  not  received  with  much  favour 
at  the  time  of  their  publication.  ^  Critics  failed  to  do  them 
justice.  The  immature,  but  very  real,  powers  revealed  in 
^^Wuthering  Heights were  scarcely  recognised;  its  im- 
port and  nature  were  misunderstood ;  the  identity  of  its 
author  was  misrepresented :  it  was  said  that  this  was  an 
earlier  and  ruder  attempt  of  the  same  pen  which  had  pro- 
duced ^^Jane  Eyre.^^^  .  .  .  'Unjust  and  grievous  error! 
We  laughed  at  it  at  first,  but  I  deeply  lament  it  now.^ 

Henceforward  Charlotte  Bronte^s  existence  becomes  di- 
vided into  two  parallel  currents — her  life  as  Currer  Bell, 
the  author  ;  her  life  as  Charlotte  Bronte,  the  woman. 
There  were  separate  duties  belonging  to  each  character — 
not  opposing  each  other  ;  not  impossible,  but  difficult  to 
be  reconciled.  When  a  man  becomes  an  author,  it  is  prob- 
ably merely  a  change  of  employment  to  him.  He  takes  a 
portion  of  that  time  which  has  hitherto  been  devoted  to 
some  other  study  or  pursuit;  he  gives  up  something  of 
the  legal  or  medical  profession,  in  which  he  has  hitherto 
endeavoured  to  serve  others,  or  relinquishes  part  of  the 
trade  or  business  by  which  he  has  been  striving  to  gain  a 
livelihood  ;  and  another  merchant,  or  lawyer,  or  doctor, 
steps  into  his  vacant  place,  and  probably  does  as  well  as 
he.  But  no  other  can  take  up  the  quiet  regular  duties  of 
the  daughter,  the  wife,  or  the  mother,  as  well  as  she  whom 


358 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


God  has  appointed  to  fill  that  particular  place :  a  woman's 
principal  work  in  life  is  hardly  left  to  her  own  choice ;  nor 
can  she  drop  the  domestic  charges  devolving  on  her  as  an 
individual,  for  the  exercise  of  the  most  splendid  talents 
that  were  ever  bestowed.  And  yet  she  must  not  shrink 
from  the  extra  responsibility  implied  by  the  very  fact  of 
her  possessing  such  talents.  She  must  not  hide  her  gift  in 
a  napkin  ;  it  was  meant  for  the  use  and  service  of  others. 
In  a  humble  and  faithful  spirit  must  she  labour  to  do  what 
is  not  impossible,  or  God  would  not  have  set  her  to  do  it. 

I  put  into  words  what  Charlotte  Bronte  put  into  actions. 

The  year  1848  opened  with  sad  domestic  distress.  It  is 
necessary,  however  painful,  to  remind  the  reader  constant- 
ly of  what  was  always  present  to  the  hearts  of  father  and 
sisters  at  this  time.  It  is  well  that  the  thoughtless  critics, 
who  spoke  of  the  sad  and  gloomy  views  of  life  presented 
by  the  Brontes  in  their  tales,  should  know  how  such  words 
were  wrung  out  of  them  by  the  living  recollection  of  the  long 
agony  they  suffered.  It  is  well,  too,  that  they  who  have 
objected  to  the  representation  of  coarseness,  and  shrunk 
from  it  with  repugnance,  as  if  such  conceptions  arose  out 
of  the  writers,  should  learn  that  not  from  the  imagination 
— not  from  internal  conception — but  from  the  hard,  cruel 
facts,  pressed  down,  by  external  life,  upon  their  very  senses, 
for  long  months  and  years  together,  did  they  write  out 
what  they  saw,  obeying  the  stern  dictates  of  their  con- 
sciences. They  might  be  mistaken.  They  might  err  in 
writing  at  all,  when  their  afflictions  were  so  great  that 
they  could  not  write  otherwise  than  they  did  of  life.  It 
is  possible  that  it  would  have  been  better  to  have  described 
only  good  and  pleasant  people,  doing  only  good  and  pleas- 
ant things  (in  which  case  they  could  hardly  have  written 
at  any  time)  ;  all  I  say  is,  that  never,  I  believe,  did  women, 
possessed  of  such  wonderful  gifts,  exercise  them  with  a 
fuller  feeling  of  responsibility  for  their  use.  As  to  mis- 
takes, they  stand  now — as  authors  as  well  as  women — be- 
fore the  judgment  seat  of  God. 


LETTER  TO  MR.  LEWES 


359 


*  January  11,  1848. 
^  We  have  not  been  very  comfortable  here  at  home  late- 
ly. Branwell  has,  by  some  means,  contrived  to  get  more 
money,  from  the  old  quarter,  and  has  led  us  a  sad  life  with 
his  absurd  and  often  intolerable  conduct.  Papa  is  harassed 
day  and  night;  we  have  little  peace;  he  is  always  sick;i 
has  two  or  three  times  fallen  down  in  fits;  what  will  be 
the  ultimate  end  God  knows.  But  who  is  without  their 
drawback,  their  scourge,  their  skeleton  behind  the  curtain  ? 
It  remains  only  to  do  one's  best,  and  endure  with  patience 
what  God  sends.' 

I  suppose  that  she  had  read  Mr.  Lewes's  review  on  ^Re- 
cent Novels,'  when  it  appeared  in  the  December  of  the  last 
year,  but  I  find  no  allusion  to  it  till  she  writes  to  him  on 
January  12,  1848. 

^  Dear  Sir, — I  thank  you,  then,  sincerely  for  your  gener- 
ous review ;  and  it  is  with  the  sense  of  double  content  I 
express  my  gratitude,  because  I  am  now  sure  the  tribute 
is  not  superfluous  or  obtrusive.    You  were  not  severe  on 

Jane  Eyre  ;"  you  were  very  lenient.  I  am  glad  you  told 
me  my  faults  plainly  in  private,  for  in  your  public  notice 
you  touch  on  them  so  lightly,  I  should  perhaps  have  passed 
them  over,  thus  indicated,  with  too  little  reflection. 

^  I  mean  to  observe  your  warning  about  being  careful 
how  I  undertake  new  works;  my  stock  of  materials  is  not 
abundant,  but  very  slender  ;  and,  besides,  neither  my  ex- 
perience, my  acquirements,  nor  my  powers  are  sufficiently 
varied  to  justify  my  ever  becoming  a  frequent  writer.  I 
tell  you  this  because  your  article  in  Eraser  "  left  in  me 
an  uneasy  impression  that  you  were  disposed  to  think 
better  of  the  author  of  ^^Jane  Eyre"  than  that  indi- 
vidual deserved;  and  I  would  rather  you  had  a  correct 
than  a  flattering  opinion  of  me,  even  though  I  should 
never  see  you. 

'  In  the  original  letter  it  runs,  '  be  (B.)  is  always  sick/ 


360 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


^  If  I  ever  do  write  another  book,  I  think  I  will  have 
nothing  of  what  yon  call  melodrama I  think  so,  but  I 
am  not  sure.  I  think,  too,  I  will  endeavour  to  follow  the 
counsel  which  shines  out  of  Miss  Austen^s  ^^mild  eyes/^ 

to  finish  more  and  be  more  subdued  but  neither  am  I 
sure  of  that.  When  authors  write  best,  or,  at  least,  when 
they  write  most  fluently,  an  influence  seems  to  waken  in 
them,  which  becomes  their  master  —  which  will  have  its 
own  way — putting  out  of  view  all  behests  but  its  own,  dic- 
tating certain  words,  and  insisting  on  their  being  used, 
whether  vehement  or  measured  in  their  nature;  new- 
moulding  characters,  giving  unthought-of  turns  to  inci- 
dents, rejecting  carefully  elaborated  old  ideas,  and  suddenly 
creating  and  adopting  new  ones. 

^  Is  it  not  so  ?  And  should  we  try  to  counteract  this  in- 
fluence ?    Can  we  indeed  counteract  it  ? 

am  glad  that  another  work  of  yours  will  soon  appear; 
most  curious  shall  I  be  to  see  whether  you  will  write  up  to 
your  own  principles,  and  work  out  your  own  theories.  You 
did  not  do  it  altogether  in  Ranthorpe^^ — at  least  not  in 
the  latter  part ;  but  the  first  portion  was,  I  think,  nearly 
without  fault ;  then  it  had  a  pith,  truth,  significance  in  it 
which  gave  the  book  sterling  value;  but  to  write  so  one 
must  have  seen  and  known  a  great  deal,  and  I  have  seen 
and  known  very  little. 

^  Why  do  you  like  Miss  Austen  so  very  much  ?  I  am 
puzzled  on  that  point.  What  induced  you  to  say  that  you 
would  have  rather  written  Pride  and  Prejudice or  "^^Tom 
Jones,^^  than  any  of  the  Waverley  Novels  ? 

had  not  seen  "  Pride  and  Prejudice, till  I  read  that 
sentence  of  yours,  and  then  I  got  the  book.  And  what 
did  I  find?  An  accurate  daguerreotyped  portrait  of  a  com- 
mon-place face  ;  a  carefully  fenced,  highly  cultivated  gar- 
den, with  neat  borders  and  delicate  flowers ;  but  no  glance 
of  a  bright,  vivid  physiognomy,  no  open  country,  no  fresh 
air,  no  blue  hill,  no  bonny  beck.  I  should  hardly  like  to 
live  with  her  ladies  and  gentlemen,  in  their  elegant  but 


MR.  G.  H.  LEWES 


361 


confined  houses.  These  observations  will  probably  irritate 
you,  but  I  shall  run  the  risk. 

^N"ow  I  can  understand  admiration  of  George  Sand ;  for 
though  I  never  saw  any  of  her  works  which  I  admired 
throughout  (even  Consuelo/^  which  is  the  best,  or  the 
best  that  I  have  read,  appears  to  me  to  couple  strange  ex- 
travagance with  wondrous  excellence),  yet  she  has  a  grasp 
of  mind  which,  if  I  cannot  fully  comprehend,  I  can  very 
deeply  respect :  she  is  sagacious  and  profound ;  Miss  Aus- 
ten is  only  shrewd  and  observant. 

'  Am  I  wrong  ;  or  were  you  hasty  in  what  you  said  ?  If 
you  have  time  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  further  on  this  sub- 
ject ;  if  not,  or  if  you  think  the  question  frivolous,  do  not 
trouble  yourself  to  reply. — I  am  yours  respectfully, 

^C.  Bell.' 

TO  G.  H.  LEWES,  ESQ. 

'January  18,  1848. 

'  Dear  Sir, — I  must  write  one  more  note,  though  I  had 
not  intended  to  trouble  you  again  so  soon.  I  have  to  agree 
with  you,  and  to  differ  from  you. 

*^You  correct  my  crude  remarks  on  the  subject  of  the 

influence  f  well,  I  accept  your  definition  of  what  the 
effects  of  that  influence  should  be  ;  I  recognise  the  wisdom 
of  your  rules  for  its  regulation.  .  .  .  - 

'  What  a  strange  lecture  comes  next  in  your  letter!  You 
say  I  must  familiarise  my  mind  with  the  fact  that  Miss 
Austen  is  not  a  poetess,  has  no  ^ sentiment'''^  (you  scorn- 
fully enclose  the  word  in  inverted  commas),  ^^no  elo- 
quence, none  of  the  ravishing  enthusiasm  of  poetry  -y'  and 
then  you  add,  I  must  ^Hearn  to  acknowledge  her  as  07ie  of 
the  greatest  artists,  of  the  greatest  painters  of  human  char- 
acter, and  one  of  the  writers  with  the  nicest  sense  of  means 
to  an  end  that  ever  lived/' 

'  The  last  point  only  will  I  ever  acknowledge. 

^Can  there  be  a  great  artist  without  poetry  ? 

'  What  I  call — what  I  will  bend  to,  as  a  great  artist,  then 
— cannot  be  destitute  of  the  divine  gift.    But  by  poetry,  I 


362 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTP:  ERONTfi 


am  sure,  you  understand  something  different  to  what  I  do, 
as  you  do  by  sentiment/^  It  \^  poetry,  as  I  comprehend 
the  word,  which  elevates  that  masculine  George  Sand,  and 
makes  out  of  something  coarse  something  godlike.  It  is 
"sentiment,"  in  my  sense  of  the  term — sentiment  jealously 
hidden,  but  genuine,  which  extracts  the  venom  from  that 
formidable  Thackeray,  and  converts  what  might  be  corro- 
sive poison  into  purifying  elixir. 

^If  Thackeray  did  not  cherish  in  his  large  heart  deep 
feeling  for  his  kind,  he  would  delight  to  exterminate ;  as 
it  is,  I  believe,  he  wishes  only  to  reform.  Miss  Austen 
being,  as  you  say,  without  "  sentiment,"  without  poetry, 
maybe  is  sensible,  real  (more  real  than  true),  but  she  can- 
not be  great. 

*  I  submit  to  your  anger,  which  I  have  now  excited  (for 
have  I  not  questioned  the  perfection  of  your  darling  ?)  ; 
the  storm  may  pass  over  me.  Nevertheless  I  will,  when  I 
can  (I  do  not  know  when  that  will  be,  as  I  have  no  access 
to  a  circulating  library),  diligently  peruse  all  Miss  Austen^s 
works,  as  you  recommend.  .  .  .  You  must  forgive  me  for 
not  always  being  able  to  think  as  you  do,  and  still  believe 
me  yours  gratefully,  0.  Bell.^ 

I  have  hesitated  a  little  before  inserting  the  following 
extract  from  a  letter  to  Mr.  Williams,  but  it  is  strikingly 
characteristic  ;  and  the  criticism  contained  in  it  is,  from 
that  circumstance,  so  interesting  (whether  we  agree  with  it 
or  not)  that  I  have  determined  to  do  so,  though  I  thereby 
displace  the  chronological  order  of  the  letters,  in  order  to 
complete  this  portion  of  a  correspondence  which  is  very 
valuable,  as  showing  the  purely  intellectual  side  of  her 
character.* 

^  The  following  letters,  addressed  to  her  publishers,  come  here  by- 
right  of  date  : — 

^February  17,  1848. 

*  I  have  received  your  letter  and  its  enclosure — a  bank  bill  for  100^. 
— ^for  which  I  thank  you.  Your  conduct  to  nae  has  been  such  that  you 


1848 


MR.  G.  H.  LEWES 


363 


TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ. 

'  April  26,  1848. 

^My  dear  Sir, — I  have  now  read  ^^Rose,  Blanche,  and 
Violet/^  and  I  will  tell  you,  as  well  as  I  can,  what  I  think 
of  it.  Whether  it  is  an  improvement  on  Ranthorpe I 
do  not  know,  for  I  liked  ^'^Ranthorpe  "  much  ;  but,  at  any 
rate,  it  contains  more  of  a  good  thing.  I  find  in  it  the 
same  power,  but  more  fully  developed. 

'  The  author's  character  is  seen  in  every  page,  which 
makes  the  book  interesting — far  more  interesting  than  any 
story  could  do;  but  it  is  what  the  writer  himself  says  that 
attracts,  far  more  than  what  he  puts  into  the  mouths  of  his 
characters.  Gr.  H.  Lewes  is,  to  my  perception,  decidedly 
the  most  original  character  in  the  book.  .  .  .  The  didactic 
passages  seem  to  me  the  best — far  the  best — in  the  work  ; 
very  acute,  very  profound,  are  some  of  the  views  there 
given,  and  very  clearly  they  are  offered  to  the  reader.  He 
is  a  just  thinker ;  he  is  a  sagacious  observer ;  there  is  wisdom 
in  his  theory,  and,  I  doubt  not,  energy  in  his  practice.  But 

cannot  doubt  my  relatives  would  have  been  most  happy,  had  it  been 
in  their  power  to  avail  themselves  of  your  proposal  respecting  the  pub- 
lication of  their  future  works,  but  their  present  engagements  to  Mr. 
Newby  are  such  as  to  prevent  their  consulting  freely  their  own  in- 
clinations and  interests,  and  I  need  not  tell  you,  who  have  so  clearly 
proved  the  weight  honour  has  with  you  as  a  principle  of  action,  that 
engagements  must  be  respected  whether  they  are  irksome  or  not.  For 
my  own  part  I  peculiarly  regret  this  circumstance." 

*  April  20,  1848. 

*  I  have  received  the  parcel  containing  Mr.  Lewes's  new  work,  and  a 
copy  of  the  third  edition  of  Jane  Eyre.  Accept  my  sincere  thanks  for 
your  kind  present. 

*  If  the  circumstance  of  a  gift  being  at  once  unexpected  and  accept- 
able can  enhance  its  value,  I  assure  you  this  is  valuable  to  me.  The 
only  drawback  to  my  pleasure  in  receiving  it  is,  that  I  think  I  should 
have  purchased  it,  and  not  have  had  it  given  to  me  ;  but  I  will  not  dis- 
pute the  point  with  your  generosity  ;  there  are  cases  where  it  is  ungra- 
cious to  decline  an  obligation  ;  I  will  endeavour  to  suppose  this  one. 

'  I  trust  the  third  edition  of  Jane  Eyre  will  go  off  well.  Mr.  Lewes's 
work,  I  do  not  doubt,  will  prosper.' 


364 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


why,  then,  are  you  often  provoked  with  him  while  you 
read  ?  How  does  he  manage,  while  teaching,  to  make  his 
hearer  feel  as  if  his  business  was,  not  quietly  to  receive  the 
doctrines  propounded,  but  to  combat  them  ?  You  acknowl- 
edge that  he  offers  you  gems  of  pure  truth :  why  do  you 
keep  perpetually  scrutinising  them  for  flaws  ? 

^Mr.  Lewes,  I  divine,  with  all  his  talents  and  honesty, 
must  have  some  faults  of  manner ;  there  must  be  a  touch 
too  much  of  dogmatism  :  a  dash  extra  of  confidence  in  him, 
sometimes.  This  you  think  while  you  are  reading  the  book; 
but  when  you  have  closed  it  and  laid  it  down,  and  sat  a  few 
minutes  collecting  your  thoughts,  and  settling  your  impres- 
sions, you  find  the  idea  or  feeling  predominant  in  your 
mind  to  be  pleasure  at  the  fuller  acquaintance  you  have 
made  with  a  fine  mind  and  a  true  heart,  with  high  abilities 
and  manly  principles.  I  hope  he  will  not  be  long  ere  he 
publishes  another  book.  His  emotional  scenes  are  some- 
what too  uniformly  vehement :  would  not  a  more  subdued 
style  of  treatment  often  have  produced  a  more  masterly  ef- 
fect ?  Now  and  then  Mr.  Lewes  takes  a  French  pen  into 
his  hand,  wherein  he  differs  from  Mr.  Thackeray,  who  al- 
ways uses  an  English  quill.  However,  the  French  pen 
does  not  far  mislead  Mr.  Lewes ;  he  wields  it  with  British 
muscles.  All  honour  to  him  for  the  excellent  general  ten- 
dency of  his  book ! 

^  He  gives  no  charming  picture  of  London  literary  society, 
and  especially  the  female  part  of  it ;  but  all  coteries,  whether 
they  be  literary,  scientific,  political,  or  religious,  must,  it 
seems  to  me,  have  a  tendency  to  change  truth  into  affecta- 
tion. When  people  belong  to  a  clique,  they  must,  I  sup- 
pose, in  some  measure,  write,  talk,  think,  and  live  for  that 
clique ;  a  harassing  and  narrowing  necessity.  I  trust  the 
press  and  the  public  show  themselves  disposed  to  give  the 
book  the  reception  it  merits  ;  and  that  is  a  very  cordial  one, 
far  beyond  anything  due  to  aBulwer  or  D'Israeli  production/ 

Let  us  return  from  Currer  Bell  to  Charlotte  Bronte.  The 


1848        UNSANITARY  STATE  OF  HAWORTH  365 


winter  in  Haworth  had  been  a  sickly  season.  Influenza  had 
prevailed  amongst  the  villagers^  and  where  there  was  a  real 
need  for  the  presence  of  the  clergyman's  daughters  they 
were  never  found  wanting^  although  they  were  shy  of  be- 
stowing mere  social  visits  on  the  parishioners.  They  had 
themselves  suffered  from  the  epidemic ;  Anne  severely,  as 
in  her  case  it  had  been  attended  with  cough  and  fever 
enough  to  make  her  elder  sisters  very  anxious  about  her. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  proximity  of  the  crowded 
churchyard  rendered  the  Parsonage  unhealthy,  and  oc- 
casioned much  illness  to  its  inmates.  Mr.  Bronte  repre- 
sented the  unsanitary  state  of  Haworth  pretty  forcibly  to 
the  Board  of  Health ;  and,  after  the  requisite  visits  from 
their  officers,  obtained  a  recommendation  that  all  future 
interments  in  the  churchyard  should  be  forbidden,  a  new 
graveyard  opened  on  the  hillside,  and  means  set  on  foot  for 
obtaining  a  water  supply  to  each  house,  instead  of  the 
weary,  hard-worked  housewives  having  to  carry  every 
bucketful  from  a  distance  of  several  hundred  yards  up  a 
steep  street.  But  he  was  baffled  by  the  ratepayers ;  as,  in 
many  a  similar  instance,  quantity  carried  it  against  quality, 
numbers  against  intelligence.  And  thus  we  find  that  illness 
often  assumed  a  low  typhoid  form  in  Haworth,  and  fevers 
of  various  kinds  visited  the  place  with  sad  frequency. 

In  February  1848  Louis  Philippe  was  dethroned.  The 
quick  succession  of  events  at  that  time  called  forth  the  fol- 
lowing expression  of  Miss  Bronte's  thoughts  on  the  subject, 
in  a  letter  addressed  to  Miss  Wooler,  and  dated  March  31: — 

remember  well  wishing  my  lot  had  been  cast  in  the 
troubled  times  of  the  late  war,  and  seeing  in  its  exciting 
incidents  a  kind  of  stimulating  charm,  which  it  made  my 
pulse  beat  fast  to  think  of  :  I  remember  even,  I  think, 
being  a  little  impatient  that  you  would  not  fully  sympathise 
with  my  feelings  on  those  subjects;  that  you  heard  my  as- 
pirations and  speculations  very  tranquilly,  and  by  no  means 
seemed  to  think  the  flaming  swords  could  be  any  pleasant 


366  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


addition  to  Paradise.  I  have  now  outlived  youth ;  and 
though  I  dare  not  say  that  I  have  outlived  all  its  illusions — 
that  the  romance  is  quite  gone  from  life — the  veil  fallen 
from  truth,  and  that  I  see  both  in  naked  reality — yet  cer- 
tainly many  things  are  not  what  they  were  ten  years  ago ; 
and,  amongst  the  rest,  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of 
war  "  have  quite  lost  in  my  eyes  their  fictitious  glitter.  I 
have  still  no  doubt  that  the  shock  of  moral  earthquakes 
wakens  a  vivid  sense  of  life,  both  in  nations  and  individuals; 
that  the  fear  of  dangers  on  a  broad  national  scale  diverts 
men's  minds  momentarily  from  brooding  over  small  private 
perils,  and  for  the  time  gives  them  something  like  large- 
ness of  views ;  but  as  little  doubt  have  I  that  convulsive 
revolutions  put  back  the  world  in  all  that  is  good,  check 
civilisation,  bring  the  dregs  of  society  to  its  surface ;  in 
short,  it  appears  to  me  that  insurrections  and  battles  are 
the  acute  diseases  of  nations,  and  that  their  tendency  is  to 
exhaust,  by  their  violence,  the  vital  energies  of  the  coun- 
tries where  they  occur.  That  England  may  be  spared  the 
spasms,  cramps,  and  frenzy  fits  now  contorting  the  Conti- 
nent, and  threatening  Ireland,  I  earnestly  pray.  With  the 
French  and  Irish  I  have  no  sympathy.  With  the  Ger- 
mans and  Italians  I  think  the  case  is  different ;  as  differ- 
ent as  the  love  of  freedom  is  from  the  lust  for  license.^ 

Her  birthday  came  round.  She  wrote  to  the  friend 
whose  birthday  was  within  a  week  of  hers ;  wrote  the  ac- 
customed letter  :  but  reading  it  with  our  knowledge  of 
what  she  had  done,  we  perceive  the  difference  between  her 
thoughts  and  what  they  were  a  year  or  two  ago,  when  she 
said,  ^  I  have  done  nothing.^  There  must  have  been  a 
modest  consciousness  of  having  ^done  something'  present 
in  her  mind,  as  she  wrote  this  year — 

^I  am  now  thirty-two.^    Youth  is  gone — gone — and  will 

1  This  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey  is  dated  April  22,  1848.  Charlotte 
Bronte's  birthday  was  April  21. 


1848 


REPUDIATION  OF  AUTHOKSHIP 


367 


never  come  back :  can^t  help  it.  .  .  .  It  seems  to  me  that 
sorrow  must  come  some  time  to  everybody^  and  those  who 
scarcely  taste  it  in  their  youth  often  have  a  more  brim- 
ming and  bitter  cup  to  drain  in  after  life  ;  whereas  those 
who  exhaust  the  dregs  early,  who  drink  the  lees  before  the 
wine,  may  reasonably  hope  for  more  palatable  draughts  to 
succeed.' 

The  authorship  of  ^  Jane  Eyre^  was  as  yet  a  close  secret 
in  the  Bronte  family  ;  not  even  this  friend,  who  was  all 
but  a  sister,  knew  more  about  it  than  the  rest  of  the 
world.  She  might  conjecture,  it  is  true,  both  from  her 
knowledge  of  previous  habits  and  from  the  suspicious 
fact  of  the  proofs  having  been  corrected  at  B(rookroyd), 
that  some  literary  project  was  afoot ;  but  she  knew  noth- 
ing, and  wisely  said  nothing,  until  she  heard  a  report 
from  others  that  Charlotte  Bronte  was  an  author — had 
published  a  novel  !  Then  she  wrote  to  her,  and  received 
the  two  following  letters  ;  confirmatory  enough,  as  it  seems 
to  me  now,  in  their  very  vehemence  and  agitation  of  in- 
tended denial  of  the  truth  of  the  report : — 

*  April  28,  1848. 

^  Write  another  letter,  and  explain  that  last  note  of  yours 
distinctly.  If  your  allusions  are  to  myself,  which  I  sup- 
pose they  are,  understand  this  :  I  have  given  no  one  a 
right  to  gossip  about  me,  and  am  not  to  be  judged  by  frivo- 
lous conjectures,  emanating  from  any  quarter  whatever. 
Let  me  know  what  you  heard,  and  from  whom  you  hoard 
it.^ 

'May  3,  1848. 

^  All  I  can  say  to  you  about  a  certain  matter  is  this  :  the 
report — if  report  there  be — and  if  the  lady,  who  seems  to 
have  been  rather  mystified,  had  not  dreamt  what  she  fan- 
cied had  been  told  to  her  —  must  have  had  its  origin  in 
some  absurd  misunderstanding.  I  have  given  no  one  a 
right  either  to  affirm  or  to  hint,  in  the  most  distant  man- 
ner, that  I  am    publishing (humbug!)    Whoever  has 


368 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


said  it  —  if  any  one  has,  which  I  doubt  —  is  no  friend  of 
mine.  Though  twenty  books  were  ascribed  to  me,  I  should 
own  none.  I  scout  the  idea  utterly.  Whoever,  after  I 
have  distinctly  rejected  the  charge,  urges  it  upon  me  will 
do  an  unkind  and  ill-bred  thing.  The  most  profound  ob- 
scurity is  infinitely  preferable  to  vulgar  notoriety ;  and  that 
notoriety  I  neither  seek  nor  will  have.  If,  then,  any  B — an 
or  G — an'  should  presume  to  bore  you  on  the  subject — to 
ask  you  what  ^^novel'^  Miss  Bronte  has  been  publishing,'^ 
you  can  just  say,  with  the  distinct  firmness  of  which  you 
are  perfect  mistress  when  you  choose,  that  you  are  author- 
ised by  Miss  Bronte  to  say  that  she  repels  and  disowns 
every  accusation  of  the  kind.  You  may  add,  if  you  please, 
that  if  any  one  has  her  confidence  you  believe  you  have, 
and  she  has  made  no  drivelling  confessions  to  you  on  the 
subject.  I  am  at  a  loss  to  conjecture  from  what  source 
this  rumour  has  come;  and,  I  fear,  it  has  far  from  a 
friendly  origin.  I  am  not  certain,  however,  and  I  should 
be  very  glad  if  I  could  gain  certainty.  Should  you  hear  any- 
thing more,  please  let  me  know.  Your  offer  of  Simeon's 
Life is  a  very  kind  one,  and  I  thank  you  for  it.  I  dare 
say  papa  would  like  to  see  the  work  very  much,  as  he 
knew  Mr.  Simeon.^  Laugh  or  scold  A  out  of  the  pub- 
lishing notion ;  and  believe  me,  through  all  chances  and 
changes,  whether  calumniated  or  let  alone,  yours  faithfully, 

'C.  Bronte.' 

The  reason  why  Miss  Bronte  was  so  anxious  to  preserve 
her  secret  was,  I  am  told,  that  she  had  pledged  her  word 
to  her  sisters  that  it  should  not  be  revealed  through  her. 

The  dilemmas  attendant  on  the  publication  of  the  sisters' 
novels,  under  assumed  names,  were  increasing  upon  them. 

^  *  Any  Birstallian  or  Gomersalian '  in  original  letter. 

^  Charles  Simeon  (1759-1836),  an  eminent  Evangelical  divine  of  the 
Church  of  England.  He  was  a  Fellow  of  King's  College,  Cambridge, 
and  hence  Mr.  Bronte's  acquaintance  with  him.  He  would  also  be 
known  to  him  as  the  patron  of  the  living  of  Bradford  Parish  Church, 
of  which  Haworth  is  a  chapelry. 


1848 


SUSPICIONS  OF  THE  CRITICS 


369 


Many  critics  insisted  on  believing  that  all  the  fictions  pub- 
lished as  by  three  Bells  were  the  works  of  one  author,  but 
written  at  different  periods  of  his  development  and  ma- 
turity. No  doubt  this  suspicion  affected  the  reception  of 
the  books.  Ever  since  the  completion  of  Anne  Bronte/s 
tale  of  ^  Agnes  Grey  ^  she  had  been  labouring  at  a  second, 
^The  Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall.'  It  is  little  known;  the 
subject — the  deterioration  of  a  character,  whose  profligacy 
and  ruin  took  their  rise  in  habits  of  intemperance,  so 
slight  as  to  be  only  considered  ^  good  fellowship'  —  was 
painfully  discordant  to  one  who  would  fain  have  sheltered 
herself  from  all  but  peaceful  and  religious  ideas.  '  She  had ' 
(says  her  sister  of  that  gentle  Mittle  one'),  ^in  the  course 
of  her  life,  been  called  on  to  contemplate  near  at  hand,  and 
for  a  long  time,  the  terrible  effects  of  talents  misused  and 
faculties  abused ;  hers  was  naturally  a  sensitive,  reserved, 
and  dejected  nature  ;  what  she  saw  sank  very  deeply  into 
her  mind  ;  it  did  her  harm.  She  brooded  over  it  till  she 
believed  it  to  be  a  duty  to  reproduce  every  detail  (of  course 
with  fictitious  characters,  incidents,  and  situations),  as  a 
warning  to  others.  She  hated  her  work,  but  would  pursue 
it.  When  reasoned  with  on  the  subject  she  regarded  such 
reasonings  as  a  temptation  to  self-indulgence.  She  must  be 
honest ;  she  must  not  varnish,  soften,  or  conceal.  This 
well-meant  resolution  brought  on  her  misconstruction,  and 
some  abuse,  which  she  bore,  as  it  was  her  custom  to  bear 
whatever  was  unpleasant,  with  mild,  steady  patience.  She 
was  a  very  sincere  and  practical  Christian,  but  the  tinge  of 
religious  melancholy  communicated  a  sad  shade  to  her  brief 
blameless  life.' 
In  the  June  of  this  year  ^The  Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall'' 

^  *  The  Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall.  By  Acton  Bell.  In  three  Volumes. 
London:  T.  C.  Newby,  Publisher.  72  Mortimer  St.,  Cavendish  Sq. 
1848.'  The  book  went  into  a  second  edition  the  same  year,  and  to  this 
edition  Anne  Bronte  contributed  a  'Preface/  in  which  she  said,  'Re- 
specting the  author's  identity,  I  would  have  it  to  be  distinctly  under- 
stood that  Acton  Bell  is  neither  Currer  nor  Ellis  Bell,  and  therefore 
let  not  his  faults  be  attributed  to  them.' 


370  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


was  sufficiently  near  its  completion  to  be  submitted  to  the  per- 
son who  had  previously  published  for  Ellis  and  Acton  Bell/ 

In  consequence  of  his  mode  of  doing  business^  consider- 
able annoyance  was  occasioned  both  to  Miss  Bronte  and  to 
them.  The  circumstances,  as  detailed  in  a  letter  of  hers 
to  a  friend  in  New  Zealand,  were  these : — One  morning,  at 
the  beginning  of  July,  a  communication  was  received  at 
the  Parsonage  from  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder,  &  Oo.  which 
disturbed  its  quiet  inmates  not  a  little,  as,  though  the 
matter  brought  under  their  notice  was  merely  referred  to 
as  one  which  afEected  their  literary  reputation,  they  con- 
ceived it  to  have  a  bearing  likewise  upon  their  character. 
^  Jane  Eyre  ^  had  had  a  great  run  in  America,  and  a  pub- 
lisher there  had  consequently  bid  high  for  early  sheets  of 
the  next  work  by  ^  Currer  Bell.^  These  Messrs.  Smith, 
Elder,  &  Co.  had  promised  to  let  him  have.  He  was  there- 
fore greatly  astonished,  and  not  well  pleased,  to  learn  that 
a  similar  agreement  had  been  entered  into  with  another 
American  house,  and  that  the  new  tale  was  very  shortly  to 
appear.  It  turned  out,  upon  inquiry,  that  the  mistake  had 
originated  in  Acton  and  Ellis  BelFs  publisher  having  as- 
sured this  American  house  that,  to  the  best  of  his  belief, 
'Jane  Eyre,'  'Wuthering  Heights,'  and  'The  Tenant  of 
Wildfell  Hall'  (which  he  pronounced  superior  to  either  of 
the  other  two)  were  all  written  by  the  same  author. 

^  Here  is  a  letter  addressed  to  Mr.  George  Smith,  of  Smith,  Elder,  & 
Co.    It  is  dated  June  15,  1848 

*  Miraheau  reached  me  this  morning  ;  this  is  the  third  valuable  and 
interesting  work  I  have  received  from  your  hands  ;  such  often-repeated 
kindness  leaves  me  at  a  loss  for  words  in  which  to  express  my  sense  of 
it.  Not  being  ingenious  enough  to  coin  new  terms  of  acknowledg- 
ment, I  must  even  have  recourse  to  the  old  ones,  and  repeat  once 
more,  "I  thank  you." 

^Mirabeau  being  one  of  the  most  remarkable  characters  of  a  remark- 
able era,  I  look  forward  to  the  perusal  of  his  life  with  much  interest. 
I  should  think  the  two  portraits  given  are  excellent ;  they  both  seem 
full  of  character,  rendering  the  strong,  striking  physiognomy  of  the 
original  with  most  satisfactory  effect.' 


im    CURRER  AND  ACTON  BELL  IN  LONDON  371 


Though  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.  distinctly  stated  in 
their  letter  that  they  did  not  share  in  such  ^belief/  the 
sisters  were  impatient  till  they  had  shown  its  utter  ground- 
lessness, and  set  themselves  perfectly  straight.  With  rapid 
decision  they  resolved  that  Charlotte  and  Anne  should  start 
for  London  that  very  day,  in  order  to  prove  their  separate 
identity  to  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.,  and  demand  from 
the  credulous  publisher  his  reasons  for  a  ^  belief^  so  directly 
at  variance  with  an  assurance  which  had  several  times  been 
given  to.  him.  Having  arrived  at  this  determination,  they 
made  their  preparations  with  resolute  promptness.  There 
were  many  household  duties  to  be  performed  that  day ;  but 
they  were  all  got  through.  The  two  sisters  each  packed 
up  a  change  of  dress  in  a  small  box,  which  they  sent  down 
to  Keighley  by  an  opportune  cart ;  and  after  early  tea  they 
set  off  to  walk  thither — no  doubt  in  some  excitement ;  for, 
independently  of  the  cause  of  their  going  to  London,  it  was 
Anne's  first  visit  there.  A  great  thunderstorm  overtook 
them  on  their  way  that  summer  evening  to  the  station; 
but  they  had  no  time  to  seek  shelter.  They  only  just 
caught  the  train  at  Keighley,  arrived  at  Leeds,  and  were 
whirled  up  by  the  night  train  to  London. 

About  eight  o'clock  on  the  Saturday  morning  they  ar- 
rived at  the  Chapter  Coffee-house,^  Paternoster  Row  —  a 
strange  place,  but  they  did  not  well  know  where  else  to 
go.  They  refreshed  themselves  by  washing,  and  had  some 
breakfast.  Then  they  sat  still  for  a  few  minutes,  to  con- 
sider what  next  should  be  done. 

When  they  had  been  discussing  their  project  in  the  quiet 

^The  Chapter  Coffee-house,  at  the  west  corner  of  Paul's  Alley, 
Paternoster  Row,  '  was  noted  in  the  last  century  as  the  place  of  meet- 
ing of  the  London  publishers'  {Wheatley's  London).  It  was  here  in 
1777  that  the  edition  of  the  British  poets  for  which  Johnson  wrote  his 
Lives  was  arranged  for.  The  building  was  destroyed  in  1858,  and  a 
public-house  stands  on  the  site,  with  a  draper's  work-rooms  above. 
A  set  of  first  editions  of  the  Bronte  novels  was  bound  in  wood  from  a 
beam  of  the  old  building  by  Mr.  Elliot  Stock,  the  publisher  and  book- 
seller, of  Paternoster  Row. 


372 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


of  Haworth  Parsonage  the  day  before,  and  planning  the 
mode  of  setting  about  the  business  on  which  they  were 
going  to  London,  they  had  resolved  to  take  a  cab,  if  they 
should  find  it  desirable,  from  their  inn  to  Cornhill;  but 
amidst  the  bustle  and  ^ queer  state  of  inward  excitement^ 
in  which  they  found  themselves,  as  they  sat  and  considered 
their  position  on  the  Saturday  morning,  they  quite  forgot 
even  the  possibility  of  hiring  a  conveyance;  and  when  they 
set  forth  they  became  so  dismayed  by  the  crowded  streets, 
and  the  impeded  crossings,  that  they  stood  still  repeatedly, 
in  complete  despair  of  making  progress,  and  were  nearly  an 
hour  in  walking  the  half-mile  they  had  to  go.  Neither  Mr. 
Smith  nor  Mr.  Williams  knew  that  they  were  coming ;  they 
were  entirely  unknown  to  the  publishers  of  ^  Jane  Eyre,^  who 
were  not,  in  fact,  aware  whether  the  *  Bells  ^  were  men  or 
women,  but  had  always  written  to  them  as  to  men. 

On  reaching  Mr.  Smith's  Charlotte  put  his  own  letter 
into  his  hands,  the  same  letter  which  had  excited  so  much 
disturbance  at  Haworth  Parsonage  only  twenty-four  hours 
before.  ^  Where  did  you  get  this  T  said  he,  as  if  he  could 
not  believe  that  the  two  young  ladies  dressed  in  black,  of 
slight  figures  and  diminutive  stature,  looking  pleased  yet 
agitated,  could  be  the  embodied  Currer  and  Acton  Bell, 
for  whom  curiosity  had  been  hunting  so  eagerly  in  vain. 
An  explanation  ensued,  and  Mr.  Smith  at  once  began  to 
form  plans  for  their  amusement  and  pleasure  during  their 
stay  in  London.  He  urged  them  to  meet  a  few  literary 
friends  at  his  house;  and  this  was  a  strong  temptation  to 
Charlotte,  as  amongst  them  were  one  or  two  of  the  writers 
whom  she  particularly  wished  to  see;  but  her  resolution 
to  remain  unknown  induced  her  firmly  to  put  it  aside. 

The  sisters  were  equally  persevering  in  declining  Mr. 
Smith's  invitations  to  stay  at  his  house.  They  refused  to 
leave  their  quarters,  saying  they  were  not  prepared  for  a  long 
stay. 

When  they  returned  back  to  their  inn,  poor  Charlotte 
paid  for  the  excitement  of  the  interview,  which  had  wound 


1848    CURRER  AND  ACTON  BELL  IN  LONDON  373 


np  the  agitation  and  hurry  of  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  by 
a  racking  headache  and  harassing  sickness.  Towards  even- 
ing, as  she  rather  expected  some  of  the  ladies  of  Mr.  Smith's 
family  to  call,  she  prepared  herself  for  the  chance  by  tak- 
ing a  strong  dose  of  sal-volatile,  which  roused  her  a  little, 
but  still,  as  she  says,  she  was  ^  in  grievous  bodily  case  ^  when 
their  visitors  were  announced,  in  full  evening  costume. 
The  sisters  had  not  understood  that  it  had  been  settled 
that  they  were  to  go  to  the  Opera,  and  therefore  were  not 
ready.  Moreover  they  had  no  fine,  elegant  dresses  either 
with  them  or  in  the  world.  But  Miss  Bronte  resolved  to 
raise  no  objections  in  the  acceptance  of  kindness.  So,  in 
spite  of  headache  and  weariness,  they  made  haste  to  dress 
themselves  in  their  plain,  high-made  country  garments. 

Charlotte  says,  in  an  account  which  she  gives  to  her 
friend  of  this  visit  to  London,  describing  the  entrance  of 
her  party  into  the  Opera  House — 

^Fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  glanced  at  us,  as  we  stood  by 
the  box  door,  which  was  not  yet  opened,  with  a  slight  grace- 
ful superciliousness,  quite  warranted  by  the  circumstances. 
Still  I  felt  pleasurably  excited  in  spite  of  headache,  sick- 
ness, and  conscious  clownishness ;  and  I  saw  Anne  was 
calm  and  gentle,  which  she  always  is.  The  performance 
was  Rossini's  "  Barber  of  Seville  " — very  brilliant,  though 
I  fancy  there  are  things  I  should  like  better.  We  had  got 
home  after  one  o^clock.  We  had  never  been  in  bed  the 
night  before ;  had  been  in  constant  excitement  for  twenty- 
four  hours;  you  may  imagine  we  were  tired.  The  next 
day,  Sunday,  Mr.  Williams  came  early  to  take  us  to  church ; 
and  in  the  afternoon  Mr.  Smith  and  his  mother  fetched  us 
in  a  carriage,  and  took  us  to  his  house  to  dine. 

^On  Monday  we  went  to  the  Exhibition  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  the  National  Gallery,  dined  again  at  Mr.  Smith's, 
and  then  went  home  to  tea  with  Mr.  Williams  at  his  house. 

'  On  Tuesday  morning  we  left  London,  laden  with  books 
Mr.  Smith  had  given  us,  and  got  safely  home.    A  more 


374  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


jaded  wretch  than  I  looked  it  would  be  difficult  to  con- 
ceive. I  was  thin  when  I  went,  but  I  was  meagre  indeed 
when  I  returned,  my  face  looking  grey  and  very  old,  with 
strange  deep  lines  ploughed  in  it ;  my  eyes  stared  unnatu- 
rally. I  was  weak  and  yet  restless.  In  a  while,  however, 
these  bad  effects  of  excitement  went  off,  and  I  regained 
my  normal  condition. 

*  Mrs.  Gaskell  made  use  of  a  letter  addressed  to  Mary  Taylor  in  Ler 
account  of  this  visit  to  London,  but  the  letter  has  many  characteristic 
touches  which  make  it  not  the  least  valuable  of  the  hitherto  unpub- 
lished material.  It  is  interesting  also  to  compare  it  withMrs.GaskelFs 
skilful  paraphrase 

TO  MISS  MARY  TAYLOR. 

*  Haworth : 

'  September  4,  1848. 

*  Dear  Polly, — I  write  you  a  great  many  more  letters  than  you  write 
me,  though  whether  they  all  reach  you,  or  not,  Heaven  knows  !  I  dare 
say  you  will  not  be  without  a  certain  desire  to  know  how  our  affairs  get 
on ;  I  will  give  you,  therefore,  a  notion  as  briefly  as  may  be.  Acton 
Bell  has  published  another  book ;  it  is  in  three  volumes,  but  I  do  not 
like  it  quite  so  well  as  Agnes  Orey,  the  subject  not  being  such  as  the 
Author  had  pleasure  in  handling.  It  has  been  praised  by  some  reviews 
and  blamed  by  others  ;  as  yet  only  25^.  have  been  realised  for  the  copy- 
right, and,  as  Acton  Bell's  publisher  is  a  shuffling  scamp,  I  expected 
no  more. 

'  About  two  months  since  I  had  a  letter  from  my  publishers — Smith 
and  Elder — saying  that  Jane  Eyre  had  had  a  great  run  in  America,  and 
that  a  publisher  there  had  consequently  bid  high  for  the  first  sheets  of 
a  new  work  by  Currer  Bell,  which  they  had  promised  to  let  him  have. 

'Presently  after  came  another  missive  from  Smith  and  Elder ;  their 
American  correspondent  had  written  to  them  complaining  that  the 
first  sheets  of  a  new  work  by  Currer  Bell  had  been  already  received, 
and  not  by  their  house,  but  by  a  rival  publisher,  and  asking  the  mean- 
ing of  such  false  play  ;  it  enclosed  an  extract  from  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Newby  (A.  and  E.  Bell's  publisher)  affirming  that  to  the  best 
of  his  belief  Jane  Eyre,  Wuthering  Heights  and  Agnes  Orey,  and  The 
Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall  (the  new  work)  were  all. the  production  of 
one  writer. 

*  This  was  a  lie,  as  Newby  had  been  told  repeatedly  that  they 
were  the  production  of  three  different  authors  ;  but  the  fact  was  he 
wanted  to  make  a  dishonest  move  in  the  game  to  make  the  public  and 


1848    CURRER  AND  ACTON  BELL  IN  LONDON  375 


The  impression  Miss  Bronte  made  upon  those  with 
whom  she  first  became  acquainted  during  this  visit  to  Lon- 
don was  of  a  person  with  clear  judgment  and  a  fine  sense  ; 

the  trade  believe  that  he  had  got  hold  of  Currer  Bell,  aod  thus  cheat 
Smith  and  Elder  by  securing  the  American  publisher's  bid. 

*  The  upshot  of  it  was  that  on  the  very  day  I  received  Smith  & 
Elder's  letter  Anne  and  I  packed  up  a  small  box,  sent  it  down  to 
Keighley,  set  out  ourselves  after  tea  —  walked  through  a  snowstorm 
to  the  station,  got  to  Leeds,  and  whirled  up  by  the  night  train  to  Lon- 
don, with  the  view  of  proving  our  separate  identity  to  Smith  &  Elder, 
and  confronting  Newby  with  his  lie. 

'  We  arrived  at  the  Chapter  Coffee-house  (our  old  place,  Polly  ;  we 
did  not  well  know  where  else  to  go)  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
We  washed  ourselves,  had  some  breakfast,  sat  a  few  minutes,  and 
tlien  set  off  in  queer  inward  excitement  to  65  Cornhill.  Neither  Mr. 
Smith  nor  Mr.  Williams  knew  we  were  coming  ;  they  had  never  seen 
us  ;  they  did  not  know  whether  we  were  men  or  women,  but  had 
always  written  to  us  as  men. 

*  We  found  65  to  be  a  large  bookseller's  shop,  in  a  street  almost  as 
bustling  as  the  Strand.  We  went  in,  walked  up  to  the  counter.  There 
were  a  great  many  young  men  and  lads  here  and  there.  I  said  to  the 
first  I  could  accost,  '*  May  I  see  Mr.  Smith  ?"  He  hesitated,  looked  a 
little  surprised.  We  sat  down  and  waited  a  while,  looking  at  some 
books  on  the  counter,  publications  of  theirs  well  known  to  us,  of  many 
of  which  they  had  sent  us  copies  as  presents.  At  last  we  were  shown 
up  to  Mr.  Smith.  *'Is  it  Mr.  Smith  ?"  I  said,  looking  up  through  my 
spectacles  at  a  tall  young  man.  It  is."  I  then  put  his  own  letter 
into  his  hand  directed  to  Currer  Bell.  He  looked  at  it  and  then  at  me 
again.  "Where  did  you  get  this  ?"  he  said.  I  laughed  at  his  perplex- 
ity ;  a  recognition  took  place.  I  gave  my  real  name — Miss  Bronte. 
We  were  in  a  small  room,  ceiled  with  a  great  skylight,  and  there  ex- 
planations were  rapidly  gone  into,  Mr.  Newby  being  anathematised, 
I  fear,  with  undue  vehemence.  Mr.  Smith  hurried  out  and  returned 
quickly  with  one  whom  he  introduced  as  Mr.  Williams,  a  pale,  mild, 
stooping  man  of  fifty,  very  much  like  a  faded  Tom  Dixon.  Another 
recognition  and  a  long  nervous  shaking  of  hands.  Then  followed  talk 
—talk — talk,  Mr.  Williams  being  silent,  Mr.  Smith  loquacious. 

'  Mr.  Smith  said  we  must  come  and  stay  at  his  house,  but  we  were 
not  prepared  for  a  long  stay  and  declined  this  also ;  as  we  took  our  leave 
he  told  us  he  should  bring  his  sisters  to  call  on  us  that  evening.  We 
returned  to  our  inn,  and  I  paid  for  the  excitement  of  the  interview  by 
a  thundering  headache  and  a  harassing  sickness.     Towards  evening, 


376 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


and  though  reserved,  possessing  unconsciously  the  power 
of  drawing  out  others  in  conversation.  She  never  ex- 
pressed an  opinion  without  assigning  a  reason  for  it ;  she 

as  I  got  no  better  and  expected  the  Smiths  to  call,  I  took  a  strong 
dose  of  sal-volatile.  It  roused  me  a  little ;  still  I  was  in  grievous 
bodily  case  when  they  were  announced.  They  came  in,  two  elegant 
young  ladies,  in  full  dress,  prepared  for  the  Opera— Mr.  Smith  him- 
self in  evening  costume,  white  gloves,  &c.  We  had  by  no  means  un- 
derstood that  it  was  settled  we  were  to  go  to  the  Opera,  and  were  not 
ready.  Moreover  we  had  no  fine,  elegant  dresses  with  us,  or  in  the 
world.  However  on  brief  rumination  I  thought  it  would  be  wise  to 
make  no  objections.  I  put  my  headache  in  my  poeket  ;  we  attired 
ourselves  in  the  plain,  high-made  country  garments  we  possessed,  and 
went  with  them  to  their  carriage,  where  we  found  Mr.  Williams. 
They  must  have  thought  us  queer,  quizzical-looking  beings,  especially 
me  with  my  spectacles.  I  smiled  inwardly  at  the  contrast  which  must 
have  been  apparent  between  me  and  Mr.  Smith  as  I  walked  with 
him  up  the  crimson-carpeted  staircase  of  the  Opera  House  and  stood 
amongst  a  brilliant  throng  at  the  box  door,  which  was  not  yet  open. 
Fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  glanced  at  us  with  a  slight  graceful  supercili- 
ousness quite  warranted  by  the  circumstances.  Still  I  felt  pleasantly 
excited  in  spite  of  headache  and  sickness  and  conscious  clowuishness, 
and  I  saw  Anne  was  calm  and  gentle,  which  she  always  is. 

*  The  performance  was  Rossini's  opera  of  the  Barber  of  Seville,  very 
brilliant,  though  I  fancy  there  are  things  I  should  like  better.  We 
got  home  after  one  o'clock.  We  had  never  been  in  bed  the  night  be- 
fore, and  had  been  in  constant  excitement  for  twenty-four  hours. 
You  may  imagine  we  were  tired. 

*  The  next  day,  Sunday,  Mr.  Williams  came  early  and  took  us  to 
church.  He  was  so  quiet  but  so  sincere  in  his  attentions  one  could 
not  but  have  a  most  friendly  leaning  towards  him.  He  has  a  nervous 
hesitation  in  speech,  and  a  difficulty  in  finding  appropriate  language 
in  which  to  express  himself,  which  throws  him  into  the  background 
in  conversation,  but  I  had  been  his  correspondent  and  therefore  knew 
with  what  intelligence  he  could  write,  so  that  I  was  not  in  danger  of 
undervaluing  him.  In  the  afternoon  Mr.  Smith  came  in  his  carriage 
with  his  mother,  to  take  us  to  his  house  to  dine.  Mr.  Smith's  resi- 
dence is  at  Bayswater,  six  miles  from  Cornhill  ;  the  rooms,  the  draw- 
ing-room especially,  looked  splendid  to  us.  There  was  no  company — 
only  his  mother,  his  two  grown-up  sisters,  and  his  brother,  a  lad  of 
twelve  or  thirteen,  and  a  little  sister,  the  youngest  of  the  family,  very 
like  himself.    They  are  all  dark-eyed,  dark  haired,  and  have  clear. 


IMS    CURRER  AND  ACTON  BELL  IN  LONDON  377 


never  pot  a  question  without  a  definite  purpose  ;  and  yet 
people  felt  at  their  ease  in  talking  with  her.  All  conversa- 
tion with  her  was  genuine  and  stimulating  ;  and  when  she 
launched  forth  in  praise  or  reprobation  of  books,  or  deeds, 
or  works  of  art,  her  eloquence  was  indeed  burning.  She 
was  thorough  in  all  that  she  said  or  did  ;  yet  so  open  and 
fair  in  dealing  with  a  subject,  or  contending  with  an  oppo- 
nent, that  instead  of  rousing  resentment  she  merely  con- 
vinced her  hearers  of  her  earnest  zeal  for  the  truth  and 
right. 

Not  the  least  singular  part  of  their  proceedings  was  the 
place  at  which  the  sisters  had  chosen  to  stay. 

Paternoster  Row  was  for  many  years  sacred  to  publish- 
ers.   It  is  a  narrow  flagged  street,  lying  under  the  shadow 

pale  faces.  The  mother  is  a  portly,  handsome  woman  of  her  age,  and 
all  the  children  more  or  less  well-looking— one  of  the  daughters  de- 
cidedly pretty.  We  had  a  fine  dinner,  which  neither  Anne  nor  I  had 
appetite  to  eat,  and  were  glad  when  it  was  over.  I  always  feel  under 
an  awkward  constraint  at  table.    Dining  out  would  be  hideous  to  me. 

'Mr.  Smith  made  himself  very  pleasant.  He  is  ?i  practical  man.  I 
wish  Mr.  Williams  were  more  so,  but  he  is  altogether  of  the  contem- 
plative, theorising  order.    Mr.  Williams  has  too  many  abstractions. 

'  On  Monday  we  went  to  the  Exhibition  of  the  Royal  Academy  and 
the  National  Gallery,  dined  again  at  Mr.  Smith's,  then  went  home  with 
Mr.  Williams  to  tea  and  saw  his  comparatively  humble  but  neat  resi- 
dence and  bis  fine  family  of  eight  children.  A  daughter  of  Leigh 
Hunt  was  there  ;  she  sang  some  little  Italian  airs,  which  she  had 
picked  up  among  the  peasantry  in  Tuscany,  in  a  manner  that 
charmed  me. 

*  On  Tuesday  morning  we  left  London,  laden  with  books  which 
Mr.  Smith  had  given  us,  and  got  safely  home.  A  more  jaded  wretch 
than  I  looked  when  I  returned  it  would  be  difficult  to  conceive.  I 
was  thin  when  I  went,  but  was  meagre  indeed  when  I  returned  ;  my 
face  looked  grey  and  very  old,  with  strange  deep  lines  ploughed  in  it  ; 
my  eyes  stared  unnaturally.  I  was  weak  and  yet  restless.  In  a  while, 
however,  the  bad  effects  of  excitement  went  off  and  I  regained  my 
normal  condition. 

'  We  saw  Mr.  Newby,  but  of  him  more  another  time. 

*  Good-bye.    God  bless  you.  Write. 


378 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


of  St.  Panrs.  The  dull  warehouses  on  each  side  are  mostly 
occupied  at  present  by  wholesale  booksellers ;  if  they  be 
publishers^  shops,  they  show  no  attractive  front  to  the 
dark  and  narrow  street.  Halfway  up,  on  the  left-hand 
side,  is  the  Chapter  Coffee-house.  I  visited  it  last  June. 
It  was  then  unoccupied.  It  had  the  appearance  of  a 
dwelling-house,  two  hundred  years  old  or  so,  such  as  one 
sometimes  sees  in  ancient  country  towns ;  the  ceilings  of 
the  small  rooms  were  low,  and  had  heavy  beams  running 
across  them ;  the  walls  were  wainscoted  breast  high  ;  the 
staircase  was  shallow,  broad,  and  dark,  taking  up  much 
space  in  the  centre  of  the  house.  This,  then,  was  the 
Chapter  Coffee-house,  which,  a  century  ago,  was  the  re- 
sort of  all  the  booksellers  and  publishers ;  and  where  the 
literary  hacks,  the  critics,  and  even  the  wits  used  to  go  in 
search  of  ideas  or  employment.  This  was  the  place  about 
which  Chatterton  wrote  in  those  delusive  letters  he  sent  to 
his  mother  at  Bristol,  while  he  was  starving  in  London.  ^I 
am  quite  familiar  at  the  Chapter  Coft'ee-house,  and  know 
all  the  geniuses  there.^  Here  he  heard  of  chances  of  em- 
ployment ;  here  his  letters  were  to  be  left. 

Years  later  it  became  the  tavern  frequented  by  Univer- 
sity men  and  country  clergymen  who  were  up  in  London 
for  a  few  days,  and,  having  no  private  friends  or  access  into 
society,  were  glad  to  learn  what  was  going  on  in  the  world 
of  letters  from  the  conversation  which  they  were  sure  to 
hear  in  the  coffee  room.  In  Mr.  Bronte's  few  and  brief 
visits  to  town,  during  his  residence  at  Cambridge,  and  the 
period  of  his  curacy  in  Essex,  he  had  stayed  at  this  house ; 
hither  he  had  brought  his  daughters,  when  he  was  convoy- 
ing them  to  Brussels ;  and  here  they  came  now,  from  very 
ignorance  where  else  to  go.  It  was  a  place  solely  frequent- 
ed by  men  ;  I  believe  there  was  but  one  female  servant  in 
the  house.  Few  people  slept  there  ;  some  of  the  stated 
meetings  of  the  Trade  were  held  in  it,  as  they  had  been 
for  more  than  a  century ;  and,  occasionally,  country  book- 
sellers, with  now  and  then  a  clergyman,  resorted  to  it; 


1848    CURRER  AND  ACTON  BELL  IN  LONDON  379 


but  it  was  a  strange,  desolate  place  for  the  Miss  Bronte^s 
to  have  gone  to,  from  its  purely  business  and  masculine 
aspect.  The  old  ^grey-haired,  elderly  man^  who  officiated 
as  waiter  seems  to  have  been  touched  from  the  very  first 
with  the  quiet  simplicity  of  the  two  ladies,  and  he  tried 
to  make  them  feel  comfortable  and  at  home  in  the  long, 
low,  dingy  room  upstairs,  where  the  meetings  of  the  Trade 
were  held.  The  high,  narrow  window^s  looked  into  the 
gloomy  Row;  the  sisters,  clinging  together  on  the  most 
remote  window  seat  (as  Mr.  Smith  tells  me  he  found  them 
when  he  came,  that  Saturday  evening,  to  take  them  to  the 
Opera),  could  see  nothing  of  motion,  or  of  change,  in  the 
grim,  dark  houses  opposite,  so  near  and  close,  although 
the  whole  breadth  of  the  Row  was  between.  The  mighty 
roar  of  London  was  round  them,  like  the  sound  of  an  un- 
seen ocean,  yet  every  footfall  on  the  pavement  below  might 
be  heard  distinctly  in  that  unfrequented  street.  Such  as 
it  was,  they  preferred  remaining  at  the  Chapter  Coffee- 
house to  accepting  the  invitation  which  Mr.  Smith  and  his 
mother  urged  upon  them ;  and,  in  after  years,  Charlotte 
says — 

'  Since  those  days  I  have  seen  the  West  End,  the  parks, 
the  fine  squares ;  but  I  love  the  City  far  better.  The  City 
seems  so  much  more  in  earnest ;  its  business,  its  rush,  its 
roar  are  such  serious  things,  sights,  sounds.  The  City  is 
getting  its  living — the  West  End  but  enjoying  its  pleasure. 
At  the  West  End  you  may  be  amused ;  but  in  the  City  you 
are  deeply  excited.^  ^ 

Their  wish  had  been  to  hear  Dr.  Croly  on  the  Sunday 
morning,  and  Mr.  Williams  escorted  them  to  St.  Stephen^s, 
Walbrook  ;  but  they  were  disappointed,  as  Dr.  Croly  did 
not  preach.  Mr.  Williams  also  took  them  (as  Miss 
Bronte  has  mentioned)  to  drink  tea  at  his  house.  On 
the  way  thither  they  had  to  pass  through  Kensington 


» Villette,  vol.  i.  p.  89. 


380 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Gardens,  and  Miss  Bronte  was  much  ^struck  with  the 
beauty  of  the  scene,  the  fresh  verdure  of  the  turf, 
and  the  soft,  rich  masses  of  foliage/  From  remarks 
on  the  different  character  of  the  landscape  in  the  South 
from  what  it  was  in  the  North,  she  was  led  to  speak 
of  the  softness  and  varied  intonation  of  the  voices  of  those 
with  whom  she  conversed  in  London,  which  seem  to  have 
made  a  strong  impression  on  both  sisters.  All  this  time 
those  who  came  in  contact  with  the  ^Miss  Browns'' (an- 
other pseudonym,  also  beginning  with  B)  seem  only  to  have 
regarded  them  as  shy  and  reserved  little  countrywomen, 
with  not  much  to  say.  Mr.  Williams  tells  me  that  on  the 
night  when  he  accompanied  the  party  to  the  Opera,  as 
Charlotte  ascended  the  flight  of  stairs  leading  from  the 
grand  entrance  up  to  the  lobby  of  the  first  tier  of  boxes, 
she  was  so  much  struck  with  the  architectural  effect  of  the 
splendid  decorations  of  that  vestibule  and  saloon,  that 
involuntarily  she  slightly  pressed  his  arm  and  whispered, 
'  You  know  I  am  not  accustomed  to  this  sort  of  thing.^ 
Indeed,  it  must  have  formed  a  vivid  contrast  to  what  they 
were  doing  and  seeing  an  hour  or  two  earlier  the  night  be- 
fore, when  they  were  trudging  along  with  beating  hearts 
and  high-strung  courage  on  the  road  between  Haworth  and 
Keighley,  hardly  thinking  of  the  thunderstorm  that  beat 
about  their  heads,  for  the  thoughts  which  filled  them  of 
how  they  would  go  straight  away  to  London,  and  prove 
that  they  were  really  two  people  and  not  one  impostor.  It 
was  no  wonder  that  they  returned  to  Haworth  thoroughly 
fagged  and  worn  out,  after  the  fatigue  and  excitement  of 
this  visit. 

The  next  notice  I  find  of  Charlotte^s  life  at  this  time  is 
of  a  different  character  from  anything  telling  of  enjoyment. 

•July  28. 

^  Branwell  is  the  same  in  conduct  as  ever.  His  constitu- 
tion seems  much  shattered.  Papa,  and  sometimes  all  of  us, 
have  sad  nights  with  him.    He  sleeps  most  of  the  day,  and 


ABOUT  CASTERTON  SCHOOL 


381 


consequently  will  lie  awake  at  night.  But  has  not  every 
house  its  trial  T  ^ 

While  her  most  intimate  friends  were  yet  in  ignorance  of 
the  fact  of  her  authorship  of  ^ Jane  Eyre/  she  received  a 
letter  from  one  of  them  making  inquiries  about  Casterton 
School.  It  is  but  right  to  give  her  answer,  written  on 
August  28,  1848.' 

'  Since  you  wish  to  hear  from  me  while  you  are  from  home, 
I  will  write  without  further  delay.  It  often  happens  that 
when  we  linger  at  first  in  answering  a  friend^s  letter  obstacles 
occur  to  retard  us  to  an  inexcusably  late  period.  In  my  last 
I  forgot  to  answer  a  question  which  you  asked  me,  and  was 
sorry  afterwards  for  the  omission.  I  will  begin,  therefore, 
by  replying  to  it,  though  I  fear  what  information  I  can  give 

will  come  a  little  late.  You  said  Mrs.  had  some  thoughts 

of  sending  to  school,  and  wished  to  know  whether  the 

Clergy  Daughters^  School  at  Casterton  was  an  eligible  place. 

*  The  following  letter  to  Mr.  George  Smith  is  dated  August  17, 
1848  :— 

*  How  you  can  expect  to  escape  the  infliction  of  thanks  by  means  of 
that  ingenuous  explanation  of  the  value  (to  you)  of  the  books  you  send 
me  I  don't  know.  Consider  yourself  now  thanked  twice  as  much  as 
ever  ;  if  you  are  overwhelmed  I  am  sorry,  but  I  cannot  help  it,  nor 
can  I  diminish  one  atom  of  the  burden.  The  case  for  me  stands  as  it 
did  before  ;  it  was  not  so  much  by  the  sacrifice  your  gifts  cost  you  that 
I  reckoned  their  value,  as  by  the  pleasure  they  gave  mCy  and,  as  that 
pleasure  is  enhanced  by  what  you  tell  me,  I  ought  to  be,  and,  I  hope, 
am,  still  more  grateful. 

*  I  have  received  the  books  ;  the  parcel  from  Messrs.  Bradbury  & 
Evans  contained,  as  you  conjectured,  a  copy  of  Vanity  Fair.  I  send 
the  accompaiiying  note  of  acknowledgment  to  be  posted  in  London. 

'  I  will  not  return  Charles  Lamb,  for  in  truth  he  is  very  welcome.  I 
saw  a  review  with  extracts  in  the  Examiner,  and  thought  at  the  time 
I  should  much  like  to  read  the  whole  work.  Bat,  having  accepted 
this  book,  I  tell  you  distinctly  that  I  will  not  accept  any  more  till  such 
time  as  I  shall  have  finished  another  manuscript,  and  you  find  it  such 
as  you  like. 

*  My  sister  joins  me  in  kind  remembrances  to  your  mother,  sisters, 
and  yourself.'  ^      Miss  Wooler. 


382  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


My  personal  knowledge  of  that  institution  is  very  much 
out  of  date,  being  derived  from  the  experience  of  twenty 
years  ago.  The  establishment  was  at  that  time  in  its 
infancy,  and  a  sad,  rickety  infancy  it  was.  Typhus  fever 
decimated  the  school  periodically;^  and  consumption  and 
scrofula,  in  every  variety  of  form  bad  air  and  water,  bad 
and  insufficient  diet  can  generate,  preyed  on  the  ill-fated 
pupils.  It  would  not  then  have  been  a  fit  place  for  any  of 
Mrs.  ^s  children  ;  but  I  understand  it  is  very  much  al- 
tered for  the  better  since  those  days.  The  school  is  re- 
moved from  Cowan^s  Bridge  (a  situation  as  unhealthy  as  it 
was  picturesque — low,  damp,  beautiful  with  wood  and  wa- 
ter) to  Casterton.  The  accommodations,  the  diet,  the  dis- 
cipline, the  system  of  tuition — all  are,  I  believe,  entirely 
altered  and  greatly  improved.  I  was  told  that  such  pupils 
as  behaved  well,  and  remained  at  the  school  till  their  edu- 
cation was  finished,  were  provided  with  situations  as  gov- 
ernesses, if  they  wished  to  adopt  the  vocation,  and  much 
care  was  exercised  in  the  selection;  it  was  added  that  they 
were  also  furnished  with  an  excellent  wardrobe  on  leaving 
Casterton.  .  .  .  The  oldest  family  in  Haworth  failed  lately, 
and  have  quitted  the  neighbourhood  where  their  fathers 
resided  before  them  for,  it  is  said,  thirteen  generations.  .  .  . 
Papa,  I  am  most  thankful  to  say,  continues  in  very  good 
health,  considering  his  age  ;  his  sight,  too,  rather,  I  think, 
improves  than  deteriorates.  My  sisters  likewise  are  pretty 
well.^ 

But  the  dark  cloud  was  hanging  over  that  doomed  house- 
hold, and  gathering  blackness  every  hour. 
On  October  9  she  thus  writes  :^ — 

^  The  past  three  weeks  have  been  a  dark  interval  in  our 
humble  home.  Branwell's  constitution  had  been  failing  fast 

^  Mr.  W.  W.  Cams  Wilson  wishes  me  to  mention  that  this  statement 
is  a  mistake.  He  says  they  have  only  had  typhus  fever  twice  in  the 
school  (either  at  Cowan  Bridge  or  at  Casterton)  since  its  institution  in 
1823  {Note  hy  Mrs.  Oaskell).  In  a  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey. 


1848  DEATH  OF  BRANWELL  BRONTE  383 

all  the  snmmer;  but  still  neither  the  doctors  nor  himself 
thought  him  so  near  his  end  as  he  was.  He  was  entirely 
confined  to  his  bed  but  for  one  single  day,  and  was  in  the 
village  two  days  before  his  death.  He  died,  after  twenty 
minutes'  struggle,  on  Sunday  morning,  September  24.  He 
was  perfectly  conscious  till  the  last  agony  came  on.  His 
mind  had  undergone  the  peculiar  change  which  frequently 
precedes  death,  two  days  previously ;  the  calm  of  better 
feelings  filled  it ;  a  return  of  natural  affection  marked  his 
last  moments.  He  is  in  God's  hands  now  ;  and  the  All- 
Powerful  is  likewise  the  All-Merciful.  A  deep  conviction 
that  he  rests  at  last — rests  well  after  his  brief,  erring,  suf- 
fering, feverish  life — fills  and  quiets  my  mind  now.  The 
final  separation,  the  spectacle  of  his  pale  corpse,  gave  me 
more  acute,  bitter  pain  than  I  could  have  imagined.  Till 
the  last  hour  comes  we  never  know  how  much  we  can  for- 
give, pity,  regret  a  near  relative.  All  his  vices  were  and 
are  nothing  now.  We  remember  only  his  woes.  Papa  was 
acutely  distressed  at  first,  but,  on  the  whole,  has  borne  the 
event  well.  Emily  and  Anne  are  pretty  well,  though  Anne 
is  always  delicate,  and  Emily  has  a  cold  and  cough  at  pres- 
ent. It  was  my  fate  to  sink  at  the  crisis,  when  I  should 
have  collected  my  strength.  Headache  and  sickness  came 
on  first  on  the  Sunday ;  I  could  not  regain  my  appetite. 
Then  internal  pain  attacked  me.  I  became  at  once  much 
reduced.  It  was  impossible  to  touch  a  morsel.  At  last 
bilious  fever  declared  itself.  I  was  confined  to  bed  a  week 
— a  dreary  week.  But,  thank  God  !  health  seems  now  re- 
turning. I  can  sit  up  all  day,  and  take  moderate  nourish- 
ment. The  doctor  said  at  first  I  should  be  very  slow  in  re- 
covering, but  I  seemed  to  get  on  faster  than  he  antici- 
pated.   I  am  truly  much  letter  J 

I  have  heard,  from  one  who  attended  Branwell  in  his 
last  illness,  that  he  resolved  on  standing  up  to  die.  He  had 
repeatedly  said  that  as  long  as  there  was  life  there  was 
strength  of  will  to  do  what  it  chose ;  and  when  the  last 


384 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


agony  began  he  insisted  on  assuming  the  position  just  men- 
tioned.^ 

*  October  29,  1848. 
^  I  think  I  have  now  nearly  got  over  the  effects  of  my 
late  illness,  and  am  almost  restored  to  my  normal  condition 
of  health.    I  sometimes  wish  that  it  was  a  little  higher,  but 

*  The  following  letter  from  Charlotte  BrontS  to  her  friend  Mr.  W.  S. 
Williams,  of  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  supplements  the  text : — 

October  3,  1848. 

*  My  dear  Sir, — **  We  have  hurried  our  dead  out  of  our  sight."  A 
lull  begins  to  succeed  the  gloomy  tumult  of  last  week.  It  is  not  per- 
mitted us  to  grieve  for  him  who  is  gone  as  others  grieve  for  those  they 
lose.  The  removal  of  our  only  brother  must  necessarily  be  regarded 
by  us  rather  in  the  light  of  a  mercy  than  a  chastisement.  Bran  well 
was  his  father's  and  his  sisters*  pride  and  hope  in  boyhood,  but  since 
manhood  the  case  has  been  otherwise.  It  has  been  our  lot  to  see  him 
take  a  wrong  bent ;  to  hope,  expect,  wait  his  return  to  the  right  path  ; 
to  know  the  sickness  of  hope  deferred,  the  dismay  of  prayer  baffled  ; 
to  experience  despair  at  last — and  now  to  behold  the  sudden  early 
obscure  close  of  what  might  have  been  a  noble  career. 

*  I  do  not  weep  from  a  sense  of  bereavement — there  is  no  prop  with- 
drawn, no  consolation  torn  away,  no  dear  companion  lost — but  for  the 
wreck  of  talent,  the  ruin  of  promise,  the  untimely  dreary  extinction 
of  what  might  have  been  a  burning  and  a  shining  light.  My  brother 
was  a  year  my  junior.  I  had  aspirations  and  ambitions  for  him  once, 
long  ago  ;  they  have  perished  mournfully.  Nothing  remains  of  him 
but  a  memory  of  errors  and  sufferings.  There  is  such  a  bitterness  of 
pity  for  his  life  and  death,  such  a  yearning  for  the  emptiness  of  his 
whole  existence,  as  I  cannot  describe.  I  trust  time  will  allay  these 
feelings. 

'  My  poor  father  naturally  thought  more  of  his  only  son  than  of  his 
daughters,  and,  much  and  long  as  he  had  suffered  on  his  account,  he 
cried  out  for  his  loss  like  David  for  that  of  Absalom — "  My  son  !  my 
son  !" — and  refused  at  first  to  be  comforted.  And  then,  when  I  ought 
to  have  been  able  to  collect  my  strength  and  be  at  hand  to  support  him, 
I  fell  ill  with  an  illness  whose  approaches  I  had  felt  for  some  time  pre- 
viously, and  of  which  the  crisis  was  hastened  by  the  awe  and  trouble 
of  the  death  scene,  the  first  I  had  ever  witnessed.  The  past  has  seemed 
to  me  a  strange  week.  Thank  God,  for  my  father's  sake,  I  am  better 
now,  though  still  feeble.  I  wish  indeed  I  had  more  general  physical 
Strength  ;  the  want  of  it  is  sadly  in  my  way.    I  cannot  do  what  I 


1S48  IMPENDING  SORROWS  385 

we  ought  to  be  content  with  such  blessings  as  we  have,  and 
not  pine  after  those  that  are  out  of  our  reach.  I  feel  much 
more  uneasy  about  my  sister  than  myself  just  now.  Emily^s 
cold  and  cou^h  are  very  obstinate.  I  fear  she  has  pain  in 
her  chest,  and  I  sometimes  catch  a  shortness  in  her  breath- 
ing, when  she  has  moved  at  all  quickly.  She  looks  very 
thin  and  pale.  Her  reserved  nature  occasions  me  great  un- 
easiness of  mind.  It  is  useless  to  question  her ;  you  get  no 
answers.  It  is  still  more  useles  to  recommend  remedies  ; 
they  are  never  adopted.  Nor  can  I  shut  my  eyes  to  Anne's 
great  delicacy  of  constitution.  The  late  sad  event  has,  I 
feel,  made  me  more  apprehensive  than  common.  I  cannot 
help  feeling  much  depressed  sometimes.  I  try  to  leave  all 
in  God's  hands  ;  to  trust  in  His  goodness  ;  but  faith  and  res- 
ignation are  difficult  to  practise  under  some  circumstances. 
The  weather  has  been  most  unfavourable  for  invalids  of  late; 
sudden  changes  of  temperature,  and  cold  penetrating  winds 
have  been  frequent  here.  Should  the  atmosphere  become 
more  settled,  perhaps  a  favourable  effect  might  be  produced 
on  the  general  health,  and  these  harassing  colds  and  coughs 
be  removed.  Papa  has  not  quite  escaped,  but  he  has  so 
far  stood  it  better  than  any  of  us.  You  must  not  mention 
my  going  to  Brookroyd  this  winter.  I  could  not,  and  would 
not,  leave  home  on  any  account.  Miss  Heald  has  been  for 
some  years  out  of  health  now.    These  things  make  one  feel, 

would  do  for  want  of  sustained  animal  spirits  and  efficient  bodily 
vigour. 

'My  unhappy  brother  never  knew  what  his  sisters  had  done  in  lit- 
erature ;  he  was  not  aware  that  they  had  ever  published  a  line.  We 
could  not  tell  him  of  our  efforts  for  fear  of  causing  him  too  deep  a 
pang  of  remorse  for  his  own  time  misspent  and  talents  misapplied. 
Now  he  will  never  know.  I  cannot  dwell  longer  of  the  subject  at 
present ;  it  is  too  painful. 

*  I  thank  you  for  you  kind  sympathy,  and  pray  earnestly  that  your 
sons  may  all  do  well,  and  that  you  may  be  spared  the  sufferings  my 
father  has  gone  through. 

*  Yours  sincerely, 

'  C.  BRONTfi.* 

25 


386  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


as  well  as  know,  that  this  world  is  not  our  abiding-place. 
We  should  not  knit  hnman  ties  too  close,  or  clasp  human 
affections  too  fondly.  They  must  leave  us,  or  we  must 
leave  them,  one  day.  God  restore  health  and  strength  to 
all  who  need  it  V  * 

I  go  on  now  with  her  own  affecting  words  in  the  bio- 
graphical notices  of  her  sisters. 

'But  a  great  change  approached.  Affliction  came  in 
that  shape  which  to  anticipate  is  dread,  to  look  back  on 
grief.  In  the  very  heat  and  burden  of  the  day  the  labour- 
ers failed  over  their  work.  My  sister  Emily  first  declined. 
...  Never  in  all  her  life  had  she  lingered  over  any  task 
that  lay  before  her,  and  she  did  not  linger  now.    She  sank 

^  A  letter  of  November  7,  1848,  to  Mr.  George  Smith  has  its  place 
here  : — 

'  I  have  received  your  letter  containing  a  remittance  of  100^.  I 
think  I  am  chiefly  glad  of  it  for  the  proof  it  seems  to  afford  that  the 
third  edition  of  Jane  Eyre  does  not  lie  a  dead  weight  on  your  hands. 
I  was  afraid  this  might  be  the  case,  and  it  would  chagrin  me  to  think 
that  any  work  of  "Currer  Bell"  acted  as  a  drag  on  your  progress; 
my  wish  is  to  serve  a  contrary  purpose,  because  it  seems  to  me,  from 
what  I  hnow,  and  still  more  from  what  I  hear  of  you,  that  you  so 
well  deserve  success.  In  this  point  of  view  I  sometimes  feel  anx- 
ious about  the  little  volume  of  poems  ;  I  hope  it  will  not  be  a  mere 
incumbrance  in  your  shop,  so  as  to  give  you  reason  to  regret  having 
purchased  it. 

.  *  I  will  do  mj^self  the  pleasure  of  writing  to  you  again  when  I  re- 
ceive the  books  you  mention.  You  see  I  carefully  abstain  from  utter- 
ing a  word  of  thanks,  but  I  must  inform  you  that  the  loan  of  the 
books  is  indeed  well-timed  ;  no  more  acceptable  benefit  could  have 
been  conferred  on  my  dear  sister  Emily,  who  is  at  present  too  ill  to 
occupy  herself  with  writing,  or  indeed  with  anything  but  reading. 
She  smiled  when  I  told  her  Mr.  Smith  was  going  to  send  some  more 
books.  She  was  pleased.  They  will  be  a  source  of  interest  for  her 
when  her  cough  and  fever  will  permit  her  to  take  interest  in  any- 
thing. Now  you  may  judge  whether  or  not  you  have  laid  me  under 
an  obligation. 

*My  sister  Anne  joins  with  me  in  kind  regards  to  yourself,  your 
mother  and  sisters/ 


1848  IMPENDING  SORROWS 


387 


rapidly.  She  made  haste  to  leave  ns.  .  .  .  Day  by  day, 
when  I  saw  with  what  a  front  she  met  suffering,  I  looked 
on  her  with  an  anguish  of  wonder  and  love.  I  have  seen 
nothing  like  it ;  but,  indeed,  I  have  never  seen  her  parallel 
in  anything.  Stronger  than  a  man,  simpler  than  a  child, 
her  nature  stood  alone.  The  awful  point  was  that,  while 
full  of  ruth  for  others,  on  herself  she  had  no  pity  ;  the 
spirit  was  inexorable  to  the  flesh  ;  from  the  trembling 
hand,  the  unnerved  limbs,  the  fading  eyes,  the  same  ser- 
vice was  exacted  as  they  had  rendered  in  health.  To  stand 
by  and  witness  this,  and  not  dare  to  remonstrate,  was  a 
pain  no  words  can  render.^ 

In  fact  Emily  never  went  out  of  doors  after  the  Sunday 
succeeding  BranwelFs  death.  She  made  no  complaint ;  she 
would  not  endure  questioning ;  she  rejected  sympathy  and 
help.  Many  a  time  did  Charlotte  and  Anne  drop  their 
sewing,  or  cease  from  their  writing,  to  listen  with  wrung 
hearts  to  the  failing  step,  the  laboured  breathing,  the  fre- 
quent pauses,  with  which  their  sister  climbed  the  short 
staircase  ;  yet  they  dared  not  notice  what  they  observed, 
with  pangs  of  suifering  even  greater  than  hers.  They 
dared  not  notice  it  in  words,  far  less  by  the  caressing  as- 
sistance of  a  helping  arm  or  hand.  They  sat  still  and 
silent. 

'  November  23, 1848. 
^  I  told  you  Emily  was  ill  in  my  last  letter.  She  has  not 
rallied  yet.  She  is  very  ill.  I  believe,  if  you  were  to  see 
her,  your  impression  would  be  that  there  is  no  hope.  A 
more  hollow,  wasted,  pallid  aspect  I  have  not  beheld.  The 
deep,  tight  cough  continues  ;  the  breathing  after  the  least 
exertion  is  a  rapid  pant  ;  and  these  symptoms  are  accom- 
panied by  pains  in  the  chest  and  side.  Her  pulse,  the  only 
time  she  allowed  it  to  be  felt,  was  found  to  beat  115  per 
minute.  In  this  state  she  resolutely  refuses  to  see  a  doc- 
tor ;  she  will  give  no  explanation  of  her  feelings  ;  she  will 
scarcely  allow  her  feelings  to  be  alluded  to.    Our  posi- 


388 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


tioii  is,  and  has  been  for  some  weeks,  exquisitely  painfuL 
God  only  knows  how  all  this  is  to  terminate.  More  than 
once  I  have  been  forced  boldly  to  regard  the  terrible  event 
of  her  loss  as  possible,  and  even  probable.  But  nature 
shrinks  from  such  thoughts.  I  think  Emily  seems  the 
nearest  thing  to  my  heart  in  the  world. ^  * 

*  A  letter  addressed  to  Mr.  Williams  on  November  22  may  be  read 
here : — 

*  My  dear  Sir, — I  put  your  most  friendly  letter  into  Emily's  hands 
as  soon  as  I  had  myself  perused  it,  taking  care,  however,  not  to  say  a 
word  in  favour  of  homa3opathy  ;  that  would  not  have  answered.  It  is 
best  usually  to  leave  her  to  form  her  own  judgment,  and  especially  not 
to  advocate  the  side  you  wish  her  to  favour  ;  if  you  do  she  is  sure  to 
lean  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  ten  to  one  will  argue  herself  into 
non-compliance.  Hitherto  she  has  refused  medicine,  rejected  medical 
advice  ;  no  reasoning,  no  entreaty  has  availed  to  induce  her  to  see  a 
physician.  After  reading  your  letter  she  said,  "  Mr.  Williams's  in- 
tention was  kind  and  good,  but  he  was  under  a  delusion:  homoeop- 
athy was  only  another  form  of  quackery."  Yet  she  niay  reconsider 
this  opinion  and  come  to  a  different  conclusion  ;  her  second  thoughts 
are  often  the  best. 

*  The  North  American  Review  is  worth  reading;  there  is  no  mincing 
the  matter  there.  What  a  bad  set  the  Bells  must  be  !  What  appalling 
books  they  write!  To-day,  as  Emily  appeared  a  little  easier,  I  thought 
the  Review  would  amuse  her,  so  I  read  it  aloud  to  her  and  Anne.  As 
I  sat  between  them  at  our  quiet  but  now  somewhat  melancholy  fire- 
side I  studied  the  two  ferocious  authors.  Ellis,  the  "man  of  uncom- 
mon talents,  but  dogged,  brutal,  and  morose,"  sat  leaning  back  in  his 
easy  chair,  drawing  his  impeded  breath  as  he  best  could,  and  looking, 
alas !  piteously  pale  and  wasted ;  it  is  not  his  wont  to  laugh,  but  he 
smiled,  half  amused  and  half  in  scorn,  as  he  listened.  Acton  was 
sewing  ;  no  emotion  ever  stirs  him  to  loquacity,  so  he  only  smiled 
too,  dropping  at  the  same  time  a  single  word  of  calm  amazement  to 
hear  his  character  so  darkly  portrayed.  I  wonder  what  the  reviewer 
would  have  thought  of  his  own  sagacity  could  he  have  beheld  the  pair 
as  I  did.  Vainly,  too,  might  he  have  looked  round  for  the  masculine 
partner  in  the  firm  of  **  Bell  &  Co."  How  I  laugh  in  my  sleeve  when 
I  read  the  solemn  assertions  that  Jane  Eyre  was  written  in  partner- 
ship, and  that  it  bears  the  marks  of  more  than  one  mind  and  one  sex! 

'  The  wise  critics  would  certainly  sink  a  degree  in  their  own  esti- 
mation if  they  knew  that  yours  or  Mr.  Smith's  was  the  first  masculine 
hand  that  touched  the  MS.  of  Jane  Eyre,  and  that  till  you  or  he  read 


1848  ILLNESS  OF  EMILY  BRONTE  389 


When  a  doctor  had  been  sent  for,  and  was  in  the  very  house, 
Emily  refused  to  see  him.  Her  sisters  could  only  describe 
to  him  what  symptoms  they  had  observed;  and  the  medicines 
which  he  sent  she  would  not  take,  denying  that  she  was  ill. 

'  I  hardly  know  what  to  say  to  you  about  the  subject 
which  now  interests  me  the  most  keenly  of  anything  in  this 
world,  for,  in  truth,  I  hardly  know  what  to  think  myself. 
Hope  and  fear  fluctuate  daily.  The  pain  in  her  side  and 
chest  is  better :  the  cough,  the  sharpness  of  breath,  the 
extreme  emaciation  continue.  I  have  endured,  however, 
such  tortures  of  uncertainty  on  this  subject  that,  at  length, 
I  could  endure  it  no  longer;  and,  as  her  repugnance  to  see 
a  medical  man  continues  immutable — as  she  declares  ^^no 
poisoning  doctor^'  shall  come  near  her — I  have  written, 
unknown  to  her,  to  an  eminent  physician  in  London,  giv- 
ing as  minute  a  statement  of  her  case  and  symptoms  as  I 
could  draw  up,  and  requesting  an  opinion.  I  expect  an 
answer  in  a  day  or  two.  I  am  thankful  to  say  that  my  own 
health  at  present  is  very  tolerable.  It  is  well  such  is  the 
case ;  for  Anne,  with  the  best  will  in  the  world  to  be  useful, 
is  really  too  delicate  to  do  or  bear  much.  She,  too,  at  pres- 
ent, has  frequent  pains  in  her  side.  Papa  is  also  pretty  well, 
though  Emily^s  state  renders  him  very  anxious. 

'  The   s'  (Anne  Bronte's  former  pupils)  were  here 

about  a  week  ago.    They  are  attractive  and  stylish-looking 

it  no  masculine  eye  had  scanned  a  line  of  its  contents,  no  masculine 
ear  heard  a  phrase  from  its  pages.  However  the  view  they  take 
of  the  matter  rather  pleases  me  than  otherwise.  If  they  like  I  am 
not  unwilling  they  should  think  a  dozen  ladies  and  gentlemen  aided 
at  the  compilation  of  the  book.  Strange  patchwork  it  must  seem  to 
them  —  this  chapter  being  penned  by  Mr.  and  that  by  Miss  or  Mrs. 
Bell ;  that  character  or  scene  being  delineated  by  the  husband,  that 
other  by  the  wife!  The  gentleman,  of  course,  doing  the  rough  work, 
the  lady  getting  up  the  finer  parts.    I  admire  the  idea  vastly.' 

^  The  Robinsons;  daughters  of  the  Rev.  Edmund  Robinson,  of  Thorp 
Green,  Yorks,  where  Anne  was  governess  and  Branwell  tutor  for  a 
short  time. 


390 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


girls.  They  seemed  overjoyed  to  see  Anne;  when  I  went 
into  the  room  they  were  clinging  round  her  like  two  chil- 
dren— she,  meantime,  looking  perfectly  quiet  and  passive. 
.  .  .  J.  and  H.^  took  it  into  their  heads  to  come  here.  I 
think  it  probable  offence  was  taken  on  that  occasion,  from 
what  cause  I  know  not;  and  as,  if  such  be  the  case,  the 
grudge  must  rest  upon  purely  imaginary  grounds,  and 
since,  besides,  I  have  other  things  to  think  about,  my  mind 
rarely  dwells  upon  the  subject.  If  Emily  were  but  well,  I 
feel  as  if  I  should  not  care  who  neglected,  misunderstood, 
or  abused  me.  I  would  rather  you  were  not  of  the  number 
either.  The  crab  cheese  arrived  safely.  Emily  has  just 
reminded  me  to  thank  you  for  it;  it  looks  very  nice.  I 
wish  she  were  well  enough  to  eat  it.^  > 

But  Emily  was  growing  rapidly  worse.'*    I  remember 

*  Joseph  and  Harry  Taylor,  Mary  Taylor's  brothers. 

2  A  letter  to  Mr.  George  Smith  concerning  Emily's  illness  is  dated 
November  22,  1848  :— 

*  I  think  it  is  to  yourself  I  should  address  what  I  have  to  say  respect- 
ing a  suggestion  conveyed  through  Mr.  Williams  on  the  subject  of 
your  friend  Dr.  Forbes. 

*  The  proposal  was  one  which  I  felt  it  advisable  to  mention  to  my 
father,  and  it  is  his  reply  which  I  would  now  beg  to  convey  to  you. 

*  I  am  enjoined,  in  tlie  first  place,  to  express  my  father's  sense  of  the 
friendly  and  generous  feeling  which  prompted  the  suggestion,  and  in 
the  second  place  to  assure  you  that  did  he  think  any  really  useful  end 
could  be  answered  by  a  visit  from  Dr.  Forbes  he  would,  notwith- 
standing his  habitual  reluctance  to  place  himself  under  obligations, 
unhesitatingly  accept  an  offer  so  delicately  made.  He  is,  however, 
convinced  that  whatever  aid  human  skill  and  the  resources  of  science 
can  yield  my  sister  is  already  furnished  her  in  the  person  of  her  present 
medical  attendant,  in  whom  my  father  has  reason  to  repose  perfect 
confidence,  and  he  conceives  that  to  bring  down  a  physician  from  Lon- 
don would  be  to  impose  trouble  in  quarters  where  we  have  no  claim, 
without  securing  any  adequate  result. 

*  Still,  having  reported  my  father's  reply,  I  would  beg  to  add  a  re- 
quest of  my  own,  compliance  with  which  would,  it  appears  to  me, 
secure  us  many  of  the  advantages  of  your  proposal  without  subjecting 
yourself  or  Dr.  Forbes  to  its  inconveniences.    I  would  state  Mr. 


1848  ILLNESS  OF  EMILY  BRONTfi  391 


Miss  Bronte^s  shiver  at  recalling  the  pang  she  felt  when, 
after  having  searched  in  the  little  hollows  and  sheltered 
crevices  of  the  moors  for  a  lingering  spray  of  heather — just 
one  spray,  however  withered — to  take  in  to  Emily,  she  saw 
that  the  flower  was  not  recognised  by  the  dim  and  differ- 
ent eyes.  Yet,  to  the  last,  Emily  adhered  tenaciously  to 
her  habits  of  independence.  She  would  suffer  no  one  to 
assist  her.  Any  effort  to  do  so  roused  the  old  stern  spirit. 
One  Tuesday  morning,  in  December,  she  arose  and  dressed 
herself  as  usual,  making  many  a  pause,  but  doing  every- 
thing for  herself,  and  even  endeavouring  to  take  up  her 
employment  of  sewing.  The  servants  looked  on,  and  knew 
what  the  catching,  rattling  breath  and  the  glazing  of  the 
eye  too  surely  foretold  ;  but  she  kept  at  her  work  ;  and 
Charlotte  and  Anne,  though  full  of  unspeakable  dread, 
had  still  the  faintest  spark  of  hope.  On  that  morning 
Charlotte  wrote  thus — probably  in  the  very  presence  of  her 
dying  sister  : — 

*  Tuesday. 

'  I  should  have  written  to  you  before,  if  I  had  had  one 
word  of  hope  to  say ;  but  I  have  not.  She  grows  daily 
weaker.    The  physician's  opinion  was  expressed  too  ob- 

Teale's  opinion  of  my  sister's  case,  the  course  of  treatment  he  has  recom- 
mended to  be  adopted,  and  should  be  most  happy  to  obtain,  through 
you,  Dr.  Forbes's  opinion  on  the  regime  prescribed. 

'  Mr.  Teale  said  it  was  a  case  of  tubercular  consumption,  with  con- 
gestion of  the  lungs  ;  yet  he  intimated  that  the  malady  had  not  yet 
reached  so  advanced  a  stage  as  to  cut  off  all  hope  ;  he  held  out  a  pros- 
pect that  a  truce  and  even  an  arrest  of  disease  might  yet  be  procured  ; 
till  such  truce  or  arrest  could  be  brought  about  he  forbade  the  excite- 
ment of  travelling,  enjoined  strict  care,  and  prescribed  the  use  of  cod- 
liver  oil  and  carbonate  of  iron.  It  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  know 
whether  Dr.  Forbes  approves  these  remedies,  or  whether  there  are 
others  he  would  recommend  in  preference. 

*  To  be  indebted  to  you  for  information  on  these  points  would  be 
felt  as  no  burden  either  by  my  sister  or  myself  ;  your  kindness  is  of  an 
order  which  will  not  admit  of  entire  rejection  from  any  motives ; 
where  there  cannot  be  full  acceptance  there  must  be  at  least  a  consid- 
ate  compromise.' 


393 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


scurely  to  be  of  use.  He  sent  some  medicine,  which  she 
would  not  take.  Moments  so  dark  as  these  I  have  never 
known.  I  pray  for  God^s  support  to  us  alL  Hitherto  He 
has  granted  it.' 

The  morning  grew  on  to  noon.  Emily  was  worse  :  she 
could  only  whisper  in  gasps.  Now,  when  it  was  too  late, 
she  said  to  Charlotte,  ^  If  you  will  send  for  a  doctor  I  will 
see  him  now.'   About  two  o'clock  she  died. 

*  December  21, 1848. 
^  Emily  suffers  no  more  pain  or  weakness  now.  She 
never  will  suffer  more  in  this  world.  She  is  gone,  after  a 
hard,  short  conflict.  She  died  on  Tuesday^  the  very  day  I 
wrote  to  you.  I  thought  it  very  possible  she  might  be  with 
us  still  for  weeks  ;  and  a  few  hours  afterwards  she  was  in 
eternity.  Yes  ;  there  is  no  Emily  in  time  or  on  earth  now. 
Yesterday  we  put  her  poor  wasted  mortal  frame  quietly  un- 
der the  church  pavement.  We  are  very  calm  at  present. 
Why  should  we  be  otherwise  ?  The  anguish  of  seeing  her 
suffer  is  over ;  the  spectacle  of  the  pains  of  death  is  gone 
by  ;  the  funeral  day  is  past.  We  feel  she  is  at  peace.  No 
need  now  to  tremble  for  the  hard  frost  and  the  keen  wind. 
Emily  does  not  feel  them.  She  died  in  a  time  of  promise. 
We  saw  her  taken  from  life  in  its  prime.  But  it  is  God's 
will,  and  the  place  where  she  is  gone  is  better  than  that 
she  has  left. 

^  God  has  sustained  me,  in  a  way  that  I  marvel  at, 
through  such  agony  as  I  had  not  conceived.  I  now  look 
at  Anne,  and  wish  she  were  well  and  strong ;  but  she  is 
neither  ;  nor  is  papa.  Could  you  now  come  to  us  for  a  few 
days  ?  I  would  not  ask  you  to  stay  long.  Write  and  tell 
me  if  you  could  come  next  week,  and  by  what  train.  I 
would  try  to  send  a  gig  for  you  to  Keighley.  You  will,  I 
trust,  find  us  tranquil.  Try  to  come.  I  never  so  much 
needed  the  consolation  of  a  friend's  presence.  Pleasure, 
of  course,  there  would  be  none  for  you  in  the  visit,  except 


1848  DEATH  OF  EMILY  BRONTfi  393 


what  your  kind  heart  would  teach  you  to  find  in  doing 
good  to  others/^ 

As  the  old  bereaved  father  and  his  two  surviving  chil- 
dren followed  the  coffin  to  the  grave  they  were  joined  by 
Keeper,  Emily^s  fierce  faithful  bulldog.  He  walked  along- 
side of  the  mourners,  and  into  the  church,  and  stayed 

^  The  above  letter  was  written  to  Ellen  Nussey.  On  December  25 
Charlotte  wrote  to  Mr.  Williams — 

*  I  will  write  you  more  at  length  when  my  heart  can  find  a  little 
rest ;  now  I  can  only  thank  you  very  briefly  for  your  letter,  which 
seemed  to  me  eloquent  in  its  sincerity. 

*  Emily  is  nowhere  here  now  ;  her  wasted  mortal  remains  are  taken 
out  of  the  house.  We  have  laid  her  cherished  head  under  the  church 
aisle  beside  my  mother's,  my  two  sisters' — dead  long  ago — and  my  poor 
hapless  brother's.  But  a  small  remnant  of  the  race  is  left — so  my  poor 
father  thinks. 

'  Well,  the  loss  is  ours — not  hers,  and  some  sad  comfort  I  take,  as  I 
hear  the  wind  blow  and  feel  the  cutting  keenness  of  the  frost,  in  know- 
ing that  the  elements  bring  her  no  more  suffering ;  this  severity  can- 
not reach  her  grave  ;  her  fever  is  quieted,  her  restlessness  soothed ; 
her  deep  hollow  cough  is  hushed  for  ever  ;  we  do  not  hear  it  in  the 
night  nor  listen  for  it  in  the  morning ;  we  have  not  the  conflict  of  the 
strangely  strong  spirit  and  the  fragile  frame  before  us — relentless  con- 
flict—once seen,  never  to  be  forgotten.  A  dreary  calm  reigns  round 
us,  in  the  midst  of  which  we  seek  resignation. 

'  My  father  and  my  sister  Anne  are  far  from  well.  As  for  me,  God 
has  hitherto  most  graciously  sustained  me  ;  so  far  I  have  felt  adequate 
to  bear  my  own  burden,  and  even  offer  a  little  help  to  others.  I  am 
not  ill ;  I  can  get  through  daily  duties,  and  do  something  towards 
keeping  hope  and  energy  alive  in  our  mourning  household.  My  father 
says  to  me  almost  hourly  ,  '*  Charlotte,  you  must  bear  up  ;  I  shall  sink 
if  you  fail  me."  These  words,  you  can  conceive,  are  a  stimulus  to 
nature.  The  sight,  too,  of  my  sister  Anne's  very  still  but  deep  sorrow 
wakens  in  me  such  fear  for  her  that  I  dare  not  falter.  Somebody  must 
cheer  the  rest. 

'  So  I  will  not  now  ask  why  Emily  was  torn  from  us  in  the  fulness 
of  our  attachment,  rooted  up  in  the  prime  of  her  own  days,  in  the 
promise  of  her  powers ;  why  her  existence  now  lies  like  a  field  of 
green  corn  trodden  down,  like  a  tree  in  full  bearing  struck  at  the 
root.  I  will  only  say,  sweet  is  rest  after  labour  and  calm  after  tem- 
pest, and  repeat  again  and  again  that  Emily  knows  that  now/ 


394  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


quietly  there  all  the  time  that  the  burial  service  was  being 
read.  When  he  came  home  he  lay  down  at  Emily's  chamber 
door,  and  howled  pitifully  for  many  days.  Anne  Bronte 
drooped  and  sickened  more  rapidly  from  that  time  ;  and 
so  ended  the  year  1848. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


A^T  article  on  ^  Vanity  Fair  ^  and  '  Jane  Eyre  ^  had  appeared 
in  the  'Quarterly  Review^  of  December  1848.  Some  weeks 
after  Miss  Bronte  wrote  to  her  publishers,  asking  why  it  had 
not  been  sent  to  her;  and  conjecturing  that  it  was  un- 
favourable, she  repeated  her  previous  request,  that  whatever 
was  done  with  the  laudatory,  all  critiques  adverse  to  the 
novel  might  be  forwarded  to  her  without  fail.  The  'Quar- 
terly Review '  ^  was  accordingly  sent.  I  am  not  aware  that 
Miss  Bronte  took  any  greater  notice  of  the  article  than  to 
place  a  few  sentences  out  of  it  in  the  mouth  of  a  hard  and 
vulgar  woman  in  '  Shirley,^  where  they  are  so  much  in 

*The  Quarterly  Remeio  article  wns  written  by  Miss  Rigby,  Lady 
Eastlake  (1809-1893).  Miss  Bront(5  contemplated  a  reply,  under  the 
title  of  'A  Word  to  the  Quarterly,'  as  a  preface  to  Shirley,  but,  acting 
on  the  advice  of  Mr.  Williams,  Shirley  appeared — in  1849 — without 
a  preface.  Writing  to  Mr.  Williams  (January  2,  1849),  Miss  Bronte 
said — 

'Untoward  circumstances  come  to  me,  I  think,  less  painfully  than 
pleasant  ones  would  just  now.  The  lash  of  tlie  Quarterly,  however 
severely  applied,  cannot  sting — as  its  praise  probably  would  not  elate 
me.  Currer  Bell  feels  a  sorrowful  independence  of  reviews  and  re- 
viewers ;  their  approbation  might  indeed  fall  like  a  sorrowful  weight 
on  his  heart,  but  their  censure  has  no  bitterness  for  him.' 

And  on  February  4  she  writes  to  him — 

'  Anne  expresses  a  wish  to  see  the  notices  of  the  poems.  You  had 
better,  therefore,  send  them.  We  shall  expect  to  find  painful  allu- 
sions to  one  now  above  blame  and  beyond  praise  ;  but  these  must  be 
borne.  For  ourselves,  we  are  almost  indifferent  to  censure.  I  read 
the  Quarterly  without  a  pang,  except  that  I  thought  there  were  some 
sentences  disgraceful  to  the  critic.    He  seems  anxious  to  let  it  be  un- 


396 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


character  that  few  have  recognized  them  as  a  quotation. 
The  time  when  the  article  was  read  was  good  for  Miss 
Bronte  ;  she  was  numbed  to  all  petty  annoyances  by  the 
grand  severity  of  Death.    Otherwise  she  might  have  felt 

derstood  that  he  is  a  person  well  acquainted  with  the  habits  of  the 
upper  classes.  Be  this  as  it  may,  I  am  afraid  he  is  no  gentleman  ;  and, 
moreover,  that  no  training  could  make  him  such.  Many  a  poor  man, 
born  and  bred  to  labour,  would  disdain  that  reviewer's  cast  of  feeling.* 
On  August  16,  1849,  she  writes  to  Mr.  Williams — 

*  To  value  praise  or  stand  in  awe  of  blame  we  must  respect  the  source 
whence  the  praise  and  blame  proceed,  and  I  do  not  respect  an  incon- 
sistent critic.  He  says,  **  If  Jane  Eyre  be  the  production  of  a  woman, 
she  must  be  a  woman  unsexed." 

*  In  that  case  the  book  is  an  unredeemed  error,  and  should  be  unre- 
servedly condemned.  Jane  Eyre  is  a  woman's  autobiography  ;  by  a 
woman  it  is  professedly  written.  If  it  is  written  as  no  woman  would 
write,  condemn  it  with  spirit  and  decision — say  it  is  bad,  but  do  not 
eulogise  and  then  detract.  I  am  reminded  of  the  Economist.  The 
literary  critic  of  that  paper  praised  the  book  if  written  by  a  man,  and 
pronounced  it    odious  "  if  the  work  of  a  woman. 

*  To  such  critics  I  would  say,  To  you  I  am  neither  man  nor  woman 
— I  come  before  you  as  an  author  only.  It  is  the  sole  standard  by 
which  you  have  a  right  to  judge  me — the  sole  ground  on  which  I  ac- 
cept your  judgment." 

'There  is  a  weak  comment,  having  no  pretence  either  to  justice  or 
discrimination,  on  the  works  of  Ellis  or  Acton  Bell.  The  critic  did 
not  know  that  those  writers  had  passed  from  time  and  life.  I  have 
read  no  review  since  either  of  my  sisters  died  which  I  could  have 
wished  them  to  read — none  even  which  did  not  render  the  thought  of 
their  departure  more  tolerable  to  me.  To  hear  myself  praised  beyond 
them  was  cruel,  to  hear  qualities  ascribed  to  them  so  strangely  the 
reverse  of  their  real  characteristics  was  scarcely  supportable.  It  is 
sad  even  now  ;  but  they  are  so  remote  from  earth,  so  safe  from  its 
turmoils,  I  can  bear  it  better. 

*  But  on  one  point  do  I  now  feel  vulnerable  :  I  should  grieve  to  see 
my  father's  peace  of  mind  perturbed  on  my  account ;  for  which  reason 
I  keep  my  author's  existence  as  much  as  possible  out  of  his  way.  I 
have  always  given  him  a  carefully  diluted  and  modified  account  of 
the  success  of  Jane  Eyre — just  what  would  please  without  startling 
him.  The  book  is  not  mentioned  between  us  once  a  month.  The 
Quarterly  I  kept  to  myself  —  it  would  have  worried  papa.  To  that 
same  Quarterly  I  must  speak  in  the  introduction  to  my  present  work 


1S19     ^QUARTERLY  REVIEW  ON  *JANE  EYRE'  397 


more  keenly  than  they  deserved  the  criticisms  which,  while 
striving  to  be  severe,  failed  in  logic,  owing  to  the  misuse  of 
prepositions  ;  and  have  smarted  under  conjectures  as  to 
the  authorship  of  ^  Jane  Eyre/  which,  intended  to  be  acute, 

— just  one  little  word.  You  once,  I  remember,  said  that  review  was 
written  by  a  lady — Miss  Rigby.    Are  you  sure  of  this  ? 

*  Give  no  hint  of  my  intention  of  discoursing  a  little  with  the  Quar- 
terly. It  would  look  too  important  to  speak  of  it  beforehand.  All 
plans  are  best  conceived  and  executed  without  noise.' 

On  August  29,  1849,  Miss  Bronte  wrote  to  Mr.  Williams  concerning 
Shirley — 

*  The  book  is  now  finished  (thank  God)  and  ready  for  Mr.  Taylor, 
but  I  have  not  yet  heard  from  him.  I  thought  I  should  be  able  to 
tell  whether  it  was  equal  to  Jane  Eyre  or  not,  but  I  find  I  cannot — it 
may  be  better,  it  may  be  worse.  I  shall  be  curious  to  hear  your  opin- 
ion; ray  own  is  of  no  value.  I  send  the  preface,  or  "  Word  to  the 
Quarterly,''  for  your  perusal.' 

Mr.  Williams  evidently  thought  that  the  preface  to  Shirley  in  reply 
to  the  Quarterly  should  be  written  on  different  lines,  and  the  author's 
identity  as  a  woman  be  avowed.  On  August  31  Miss  Bronte  writes 
to  him — 

'August  31,  1849. 
*My  dear  Sir,— I  cannot  change  my  preface.  I  can  shed  no  tears 
before  the  public,  nor  utter  any  groan  in  the  public  ear.  The  deep, 
real  tragedy  of  our  domestic  experience  is  yet  terribly  fresh  in  my  mind 
and  memory.  It  is  not  a  time  to  be  talked  about  to  the  indifferent  ; 
it  is  not  a  topic  for  allusion  to  in  print. 

*  No  righteous  indignation  can  I  lavish  on  the  Quarterly.  I  can  con- 
descend but  to  touch  it  with  the  lightest  satire.  Believe  me,  my  dear 
Sir,  **  C.  Bronte"  must  not  here  appear  ;  what  she  feels  or  has  felt  is 
not  the  question:  it  is  *'Currer  Bell"  who  was  insulted  ;  he  must  re- 
ply. Let  Mr.  Smith  fearlessly  print  the  preface  I  have  sent — let  him 
depend  upon  me  this  once  ;  even  if  I  prove  a  broken  reed,  his  fall 
cannot  be  dangerous  :  a  preface  is  a  short  distance,  it  is  not  three  vol- 
umes. 

*  I  have  always  felt  certain  that  it  is  a  deplorable  error  in  an  author 
to  assume  the  tragic  tone  in  addressing  the  public  about  his  own 
wrongs  or  griefs.  What  does  the  public  care  about  him  as  an  indi- 
vidual ?  His  wrongs  are  its  sport  ;  his  griefs  would  be  a  bore.  What 
we  deeply  feel  is  our  own — we  must  keep  it  to  ourselves.  Ellis  and 
Acton  Bell  were,  for  me,  Emily  and  Anne  ;  my  sisters — to  me  inti- 
mately near,  tenderly  dear — to  the  public  they  were  nothing — worse 


398 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


were  merely  flippant.  But  flippancy  takes  a  graver  name 
when  directed  against  an  author  by  an  anonymous  writer. 
We  call  it  then  cowardly  insolence. 

Every  one  has  a  right  to  form  his  own  conclusion  respect- 
ing the  merits  and  demerits  of  a  book.  I  complain  not  of 
the  judgment  which  the  reviewer  passes  on  ^  Jane  Eyre.' 
Opinions  as  to  its  tendency  varied  then  as  they  do  now. 
While  I  write  I  receive  a  letter  from  a  clergyman  in 
America,  in  which  he  says,  ^  We  have  in  our  sacred  of 
sacreds  a  special  shelf,  highly  adorned,  as  a  place  we  de- 
light to  honour,  of  novels  which  we  recognise  as  having 
had  a  good  influence  on  character,  our  character.  Fore- 
most is    Jane  Eyre."' 

Nor  do  I  deny  the  existence  of  a  diametrically  opposite 
judgment.  And  so  (as  I  trouble  not  myself  about  the  re- 
viewer's style  of  composition)  I  leave  his  criticisms  regard- 
ing the  merits  of  the  work  on  one  side.  But  when — forget- 

than  nothing — being  speculated  upon,  misunderstood,  misrepresented. 
If  I  live  the  hour  may  come  when  the  spirit  will  move  me  to  speak  of 
them,  but  it  is  not  come  yet.' 

And  on  the  same  date  (August  31,  1849)  she  writes  to  Mr.  George 
Smith— 

*I  do  not  know  whether  you  share  Mr.  Williams's  disapprobation  of 
the  preface  I  sent,  but,  if  you  do,  ask  him  to  show  you  the  note  where- 
in I  contumaciously  persist  in  urging  it  upon  you.  I  really  cannot 
condescend  to  be  serious  with  the  Quarterly :  it  is  too  silly  for  solem- 
nity. 

•  Mr.  Taylor  has  just  written  ;  he  says  he  shall  be  at  Haworth  on 
Saturday,  September  8,  so  I  shall  wait  with  what  patience  I  may.  I 
am  perhaps  unduly  anxious  to  know  that  the  manuscript  is  safely  de- 
posited at  65  Cornhil!,  and  to  hear  the  opinions  of  my  critics  there. 
Those  opinions  are  by  no  means  the  less  valuable  because  I  cannot  al- 
ways reconcile  them  to  my  own  convictions.  "In  the  multitude  of 
counsellors  there  is  safety." 

'  It  is  my  intention  to  pack  with  the  manuscript  some  of  the  books 
you  have  been  so  kind  as  to  lend  me— if  the  charge  of  so  large  a  par- 
cel will  not  be  too  burdensome  for  Mr.  Taylor.  Such  works  as  I  have 
not  yet  perused  I  shall  take  tlie  liberty  of  retaining  a  little  longer. 

'Permit  me  to  thank  you  for  the  kind  interest  you  express  in  my 
welfare  ;  I  am  not  ill,  but  only  somewhat  overwrought  and  unnerved.' 


1849    *QUx\RTERLY  REVIEW  ON  'JANE  EYRE'  399 

ting  the  chivalroas  spirit  of  the  good  and  noble  Sonthey,  who 
said^  ^  In  reviewing  anonymous  works  myself,  when  I  have 
known  the  authors  I  have  never  mentioned  them,  taking  it 
for  granted  they  had  sufficient  reasons  for  avoiding  the 
publicity^ — the  ^ Quarterly^  reviewer  goes  on  into  gossip- 
ing conjectures  as  to  who  Currer  Bell  really  is,  and  pretends 
to  decide  on  what  the  writer  may  be  from  the  book,  I  pro- 
test with  my  whole  soul  against  such  want  of  Christian 
charity.  Not  even  the  desire  to  write  a  ^  smart  article," 
which  shall  be  talked  about  in  London,  when  the  faint 
mask  of  the  anonymous  can  be  dropped  at  pleasure  if  the 
cleverness  of  the  review  be  admired — not  even  this  tempta- 
tion can  excuse  the  stabbing  cruelty  of  the  judgment. 
Who  is  he  that  should  say  of  an  unknown  woman,  '  She 
must  be  one  who  for  some  sufficient  reason  has  long  for- 
feited the  society  of  her  sex"?  Is  he  one  who  has  led  a 
wild  and  struggling  and  isolated  life,  seeing  few  but  plain 
and  unspoken  Northerns,  unskilled  in  the  euphuisms 
which  assist  the  polite  world  to  skim  over  the  mention  of 
vice  ?  Has  he  striven  through  long  weeping  years  to  find 
excuses  for  the  lapse  of  an  only  brother,  and  through  daily 
contact  with  a  poor  lost  profligate  been  compelled  into  a 
certain  familiarity  with  the  vices  that  his  soul  abhors  ? 
Has  he,  through  trials,  close  following  in  dread  march 
through  his  household,  sweeping  the  hearthstone  bare  of 
life  and  love,  still  striven  hard  for  strength  to  say,  '  It  is 
the  Lord  :  let  Him  do  what  seemeth  to  him  good " — and 
sometimes  striven  in  vain,  until  the  kindly  Light  returned? 
If  through  all  these  dark  waters  the  scornful  reviewer  have 
passed  clear,  refined,  free  from  stain — with  a  soul  that  has 
never  in  all  its  agonies  cried  ^Lama  sabachthani" — still 
even  then  let  him  pray  with  the  publican  rather  than  judge 
with  the  Pharisee. 

*  January  10,  1849. 
'  Anne  had  a  very  tolerable  day  yesterday,  and  a  pretty 
quiet  night  last  night,  though  she  did  not  sleep  much.  Mr. 
Wheelhouse  ordered  the  blister  to  be  put  on  again.  She 


400  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


bore  it  without  sickness.  I  have  just  dressed  it,  and  she  is 
risen  and  come  downstairs.  She  looks  somewhat  pale  and 
sickly.  She  has  had  one  dose  of  the  cod-liver  oil;  it  smells 
and  tastes  like  train  oil.  I  am  trying  to  hope,  but  the  day 
is  windy,  cloudy,  and  stormy.  My  spirits  fall  at  intervals 
very  low ;  then  I  look  where  you  counsel  me  to  look,  be- 
yond earthly  tempests  and  sorrows.  I  seem  to  get  strength 
if  not  consolation.  It  will  not  do  to  anticipate.  I  feel 
that  hourly.  In  the  night  I  awake  and  long  for  morning : 
then  my  heart  is  wrung.  Papa  continues  much  the  same; 
he  was  very  faint  when  he  came  down  to  breakfast.^  .  .  . 
Dear  Ellen,  your  friendship  is  some  comfort  to  me.  I  am 
thankful  for  it.  I  see  few  lights  through  the  darkness  of 
the  present  time ;  but  amongst  them  the  constancy  of  a 
kind  heart  attached  to  me  is  one  of  the  most  cheering  and 
serene.^ ' 

*  The  original  letter  runs — 

*  I  wrote  to  Huusworth  (the  Taylors),  telling  them  candidly  I  would 
rather  they  did  not  come,  as,  owing  to  circumstances,  I  felt  it  was  not 
in  my  power  to  receive  them  as  I  could  wish.' 

-  On  January  18  she  writes  to  Mr.  Williams — 

'  My  dear  Sir, — In  sitting  down  to  write  to  you  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
doing  a  wrong  and  a  selfish  thing.  I  believe  I  ought  to  discontinue  my 
correspondence  with  you  till  times  change,  and  the  tide  of  calamity 
which  of  late  days  has  set  so  strongly  in  against  us  takes  a  turn.  But 
the  fact  is,  sometimes  I  feel  it  absolutely  necessary  to  unburden  my 
mifld.  To  papa  I  must  only  speak  cheeringly,  to  Anne  only  encour- 
agingly ;  to  you  I  may  give  some  hint  of  the  dreary  truth. 

*  Anne  and  I  sit  alone  and  in  seclusion,  as  you  fancy  us,  but  we  do 
not  study.  Anne  cannot  study  now,  she  can  scarcely  read  ;  she  occu- 
pies Emily's  chair  ;  she  does  not  get  well.  A  week  ago  we  sent  for  a 
medical  man  of  skill  and  experience  from  Leeds  to  see  her.  He  ex- 
amined her  with  the  stethoscope.  His  report  I  forbear  to  dwell  on 
for  the  present — even  skilful  physicians  have  often  been  mistaken 
in  their  conjectures. 

*  My  first  impulse  was  to  hasten  her  away  to  a  warmer  climate,  but 
this  was  forbidden :  she  must  not  travel ;  she  is  not  to  stir  from  the 
house  this  winter ;  the  temperature  of  her  room  is  to  be  kept  con- 
slautly  equal. 

*  Had  leave  been  given  to  try  change  of  air  and  scene, I  should  hardly 


1849  ILLNESS  OF  ANNE  BRONTE  401 


'  January  15,  1849. 
can  scarcely  say  that  Anne  is  worse,  nor  can  I  say  she 
is  better.    She  varies  often  in  the  course  of  a  day,  yet  each 
day  is  passed  pretty  much  the  same.    The  morning  is  usu- 

have  known  how  to  act.  I  could  not  possibly  leave  papa  ;  and  when 
I  mentioned  his  accompanying  us,  the  bare  thought  distressed  him  too 
much  to  be  dwelt  upon.  Papa  is  now  upwards  of  seventy  years  of 
age  ;  his  habits  for  nearly  thirty  years  have  been  those  of  absolute  re- 
tirement ;  any  change  in  them  is  most  repugnant  to  him,  and  probably 
could  not,  at  this  time,  especially  when  the  hand  of  God  is  so  heavy 
upon  his  old  age,  be  ventured  upon  without  danger. 

'  When  we  lost  Emily  I  thought  we  had  drained  the  very  dregs  of 
our  cup  of  trial,  but  now  when  I  hear  Anne  cough  as  Emily  coughed 
I  tremble  lest  there  should  be  exquisite  bitterness  yet  to  taste.  How- 
ever, I  must  not  look  forwards,  nor  must  I  look  backwards.  Too  of- 
ten I  feel  like  one  crossing  an  abyss  on  a  narrow  plank — a  glance 
round  might  quite  unnerve. 

*  So  circumstanced,  my  dear  Sir,  what  claim  have  I  on  your  friend- 
ship, what  right  to  the  comfort  of  your  letters  ?  My  literary  char- 
acter is  effaced  for  the  time,  and  it  is  by  that  only  you  know  me. 
Care  of  papa  and  Anne  is  necessarily  my  chief  present  object  in  life, 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  that  could  give  me  interest  with  my  publishers 
or  their  connections.  Should  Anne  get  better,  I  think  I  could  rally 
and  become  Currer  Bell  once  more,  but  if  otherwise  I  look  no  further : 
sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof. 

'  Anne  is  very  patient  in  her  illness,  as  patient  as  Emily  was  un- 
flinching. I  recall  one  sister  and  look  at  the  other  with  a  sort  of  rev- 
erence as  well  as  affection  :  under  the  test  of  suffering  neither  has 
faltered. 

*  All  the  days  of  this  winter  have  gone  by  darkly  and  heavily  like  a 
funeral  train.  Since  September  sickness  has  not  quitted  the  house. 
It  is  strange  it  did  not  use  to  be  so,  but  I  suspect  now  all  this  has 
been  coming  on  for  years.  Unused,  any  of  us,  to  the  possession  of 
robust  health,  we  have  not  noticed  the  gradual  approaches  of  de- 
cay ;  we  did  not  know  its  symptoms  :  the  little  cough,  the  small  appe- 
tite, the  tendency  to  take  cold  at  every  variation  of  atmosphere 
have  been  regarded  as  things  of  course.  I  see  them  in  another  light 
now. 

*  If  you  answer  this,  write  to  me  as  you  would  to  a  person  in  an 
average  state  of  tranquillity  and  happiness.  I  want  to  keep  myself  as 
firm  and  calm  as  I  can.  While  papa  and  Anne  want  me,  I  hope,  I 
pray,  never  to  fail  them.    Were  I  to  see  you  I  should  endeavour  to 


402  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


ally  the  best  time  ;  the  afternoon  and  the  evening  the  most 
feverish.  Her  cough  is  the  most  troublesome  at  night,  but 
it  is  rarely  violent.  The  pain  in  her  arm  still  disturbs  her. 
She  took  the  cod-liver  oil  and  carbonate  of  iron  regularly ; 
she  finds  them  both  nauseous,  but  especially  the  oil.  Her 
appetite  is  small  indeed.  Do  not  fear  that  I  shall  relax  in 
my  care  of  her.  She  is  too  precious  not  to  be  cherished 
with  all  the  fostering  strength  I  have.  Papa,  I  am  thank- 
ful to  say,  has  been  a  good  deal  better  this  last  day  or  two. 

^  As  to  your  queries  about  myself,  I  can  only  say  that  if 
I  continue  as  I  am  I  shall  do  very  well.  I  have  not  yet  got 
rid  of  the  pains  in  my  chest  and  back.  They  oddly  return 
with  every  change  of  weather ;  and  are  still  sometimes 
accompanied  with  a  little  soreness  and  hoarseness,  but  I 
combat  them  steadily  with  pitch  plasters  and  bran  tea.  I 
should  think  it  silly  and  wrong  indeed  not  to  be  regardful 
of  my  own  health  at  present ;  it  would  not  do  to  be  ill  noiv, 

^  I  avoid  looking  forward  or  backward,  and  try  to  keep 
looking  upward.  This  is  not  the  time  to  regret,  dread,  or 
weep.  What  I  have  and  ought  to  do  is  very  distinctly  laid 
out  for  me  ;  what  I  want,  and  pray  for,  is  strength  to  per- 
form it.  The  days  pass  in  a  slow,  dark  march  :  the  nights 
are  the  test ;  the  sudden  wakings  from  restless  sleep,  the 
revived  knowledge  that  one  lies  in  her  grave,  and  another, 
not  at  my  side,  but  in  a  separate  and  sick  bed.  However, 
God  is  over  all.^ 

'January  22,  1849. 

^  Anne  really  did  seem  to  be  a  little  better  during  some 
mild  days  last  week,  but  to-day  she  looks  very  pale  and 
languid  again.  She  perseveres  with  the  cod-liver  oil,  but 
still  finds  it  very  nauseous. 

^  She  is  truly  obliged  to  you  for  the  soles  for  her  shoes, 

converse  on  ordinary  topics,  and  I  should  wish  to  write  on  the  same 
— besides,  it  will  be  less  harassing  to  yourself  to  address  me  as  usual. 

'  May  God  long  preserve  to  you  the  domestic  treasures  you  value  ; 
and  when  bereavement  at  last  comes  may  He  give  you  strength  to 
bear  it. — Yours  sincerely,  C.  Bronte.* 


1849 


ILLNESS  OF  ANNE  BRONTE 


403 


and  finds  them  extremely  comfortable.  I  am  to  commission 
you  to  get  her  just  such  a  respirator  as  Mrs.  (Heald)  had. 
She  would  not  object  to  give  a  higher  price,  if  you  thought 
it  better.  If  it  is  not  too  much  trouble  you  may  likewise 
get  me  a  pair  of  soles ;  you  can  send  them  and  the  respirator 
when  you  send  the  box.  You  must  put  down  the  price  of 
all,  and  we  will  pay  you  in  a  post-office  order.  Wuther- 
ing  Heights  was  given  to  you.  (Mary  Taylor^s  address  I 
have  always  written  >^  Mr.  Waring  Taylor,  Wellington, 
New  Zealand."')  I  have  sent  her  neither  letter  nor  parcel. 
I  had  nothing  but  dreary  news  to  write,  so  preferred  that 
others  should  tell  her.  I  have  not  written  to  (Ellen  Tay- 
lor) either.  I  cannot  write,  except  when  I  am  quite 
obliged/ 

'February  11,  1849. 
'  We  received  the  box  and  its  contents  quite  safely  to-day. 
The  penwipers  are  very  pretty,  and  we  are  very  much 
obliged  to  you  for  them.  I  hope  the  respirator  will  be  use- 
ful to  Anne,  in  case  she  should  ever  be  well  enough  to  go 
out  again.  She  continues  very  much  in  the  same  state — I 
trust  not  greatly  worse,  though  she  is  becoming  very  thin. 
I  fear  it  would  be  only  self-delusion  to  fancy  her  better. 
What  effect  the  advancing  season  may  have  on  her  I  know 
not;  perhaps  the  return  of  really  warm  weather  may  give 
nature  a  happy  stimulus.  I  tremble  at  the  thought  of  any 
change  to  cold  wind  or  frost.  Would  that  March  were  well 
over !  Her  mind  seems  generally  serene,  and  her  suffer- 
ings hitherto  are  nothing  like  Emily^s.  The  thought  of 
what  may  be  to  come  grows  more  familiar  to  my  mind  ;  but 
it  is  a  sad,  dreary  guest.^ 

'  March  16,  1849. 

^We  have  found  the  past  week  a  somewhat  trying  one; 
it  has  not  been  cold,  but  still  there  have  been  changes  of 
temperature  whose  effect  Anne  has  felt  unfavourably.  She 
is  not,  I  trust,  seriously  worse,  but  her  cough  is  at  times 
very  hard  and  painful,  and  her  strength  rather  diminished 
than  improved.    I  wish  the  month  of  March  was  well  over. 


404 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


You  are  right  in  conjecturing  that  I  am  somewhat  de- 
pressed ;  at  times  I  certainly  am.  It  was  almost  easier  to 
bear  up  when  the  trial  was  at  its  crisis  than  now.  The  feel- 
ing of  Emily^s  loss  does  not  diminish  as  time  wears  on ;  it 
often  makes  itself  most  acutely  recognised.  It  brings  too  an 
inexpressible  sorrow  with  it ;  and  then  the  future  is  dark. 
Yet  I  am  well  aware  it  will  not  do  either  to  complain 
or  sink,  and  I  strive  to  do  neither.  Strength,  I  hope 
and  trust,  will  yet  be  given  in  proportion  to  the  burden ; 
but  the  pain  of  my  position  is  not  one  likely  to  lessen  with 
habit.  Its  solitude  and  isolation  are  oppressive  circum- 
stances, yet  I  do  not  wish  for  any  friends  to  stay  with  me  ; 
I  could  not  do  with  any  one — not  even  you — to  share  the 
sadness  of  the  house ;  it  would  rack  me  intolerably.  Mean- 
time judgment  is  still  blent  with  mercy.  Anne^s  sufferings 
still  continue  mild.  It  is  my  nature,  when  left  alone,  to 
struggle  on  with  a  certain  perseverance,  and  I  believe  God 
will  help  me.^ 

Anne  had  been  delicate  all  her  life :  a  fact  which  perhaps 
made  her  father  and  sister  less  aware  than  they  would 
otherwise  have  been  of  the  true  nature  of  those  fatal  first 
symptoms.  Yet  they  seem  to  have  lost  but  little  time  be- 
fore they  sent  for  the  first  advice  that  could  be  procured. 
She  was  examined  with  the  stethoscope,  and  the  dreadful 
fact  was  announced  that  her  lungs  were  affected,  and  that 
tubercular  consumption  had  already  made  considerable 
progress.  A  system  of  treatment  was  prescribed,  which 
was  afterwards  ratified  by  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Forbes. 

For  a  short  time  they  hoped  that  the  disease  was  arrested. 
Charlotte — herself  ill  with  a  complaint  that  severely  tried 
her  spirits — was  the  ever-watchful  nurse  of  this  youngest, 
last  sister.  One  comfort  was  that  Anne  was  the  patientest, 
gentlest  invalid  that  could  be.  Still,  there  were  hours, 
days,  weeks  of  inexpressible  anguish  to  be  borne,  under  the 
pressure  of  which  Charlotte  could  only  pray ;  and  pray  she 
did,  right  earnestly.    Thus  she  writes  on  March  24^ — 

*  To  her  old  schoolmistress  Miss  Wooler. 


1849 


A  TIME  OF  DARKNESS 


405 


^Anne's  decline  is  gradual  and  fluctuating;  but  its  nat- 
ure is  not  doubtful.  ...  In  spirit  she  is  resigned  :  at  heart 
she  is,  I  believe,  a  true  Christian.  .  .  .  May  God  support 
her  and  all  of  us  through  the  trial  of  lingering  sickness, 
and  aid  her  in  the  last  hour,  when  the  struggle  which  sep- 
arates soul  from  body  must  be  gone  through  !  We  saw 
Emily  torn  from  the  midst  of  us  when  our  hearts  clung  to 
her  with  intense  attachment.  .  .  .  She  was  scarce  buried 
when  Anne^s  health  failed.  .  .  .These  things  would  be  too 
much,  if  reason,  unsupported  by  religion,  were  condemned 
to  bear  them  alone.  I  have  cause  to  be  most  thankful  for 
the  strength  that  has  hitherto  been  vouchsafed  both  to  my 
father  and  to  myself.  God,  I  think,  is  specially  merciful 
to  old  age  ;  and,  for  my  own  part,  trials,  which  in  perspec- 
tive would  have  seemed  to  me  quite  intolerable,  when  they 
actually  came  I  endured  without  prostration.  Yet  I  must 
confess  that,  in  the  time  which  has  elapsed  since  Emily's 
death,  there  have  been  moments  of  solitary,  deep,  inert  af- 
fliction, far  harder  to  bear  than  those  which  immediately 
followed  our  loss.  The  crisis  of  bereavement  has  an  acute 
pang  which  goads  to  exertion  ;  the  desolate  after-feeling 
sometimes  paralyses.  I  have  learnt  that  we  are  not  to  find 
solace  in  our  own  strength ;  we  must  seek  it  in  God's  om- 
nipotence. Fortitude  is  good  ;  but  fortitude  itself  must 
be  shaken  under  us,  to  teach  us  how  weak  we  are !' 

All  through  this  illness  of  Anne's  Charlotte  had  the 
comfort  of  being  able  to  talk  to  her  about  her  state ;  a 
comfort  rendered  inexpressibly  great  by  the  contrast  which 
it  presented  to  the  recollection  of  Emily's  rejection  of  all 
sympathy.  If  a  proposal  for  Anne's  benefit  was  made, 
Charlotte  could  speak  to  her  about  it,  and  the  nursing  and 
dying  sister  could  consult  with  each  other  as  to  its  desira- 
bility. I  have  seen  but  one  of  Anne's  letters  ;  it  is  the 
only  time  we  seem  to  be  brought  into  direct  personal  con- 
tact with  this  gentle,  patient  girl.  In  order  to  give  the  req- 
uisite preliminary  explanation,  I  must  state  that  the  fam- 


406  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


ily  of  friends,  to  which  Ellen  belonged,  proposed  that 
Anne  should  come  to  them,  in  order  to  try  what  change  of 
air  and  diet  and  the  company  of  kindly  people  could  do 
towards  restoring  her  to  health.  In  answer  to  this  propo- 
sal Charlotte  writes — 

'  March  24. 

^  I  read  your  kind  note  to  Anne,  and  she  wishes  me  to 
thank  you  sincerely  for  your  friendly  proposal.  She  feels, 
of  course,  that  it  would  not  do  to  take  advantage  of  it,  by 
quartering  an  invalid  upon  the  inhabitants  of  B(rookroyd); 
but  she  intimates  there  is  another  way  in  which  you  might 
serve  her,  perhaps  with  some  benefit  to  yourself  as  well  as 
to  her.  Should  it  in  a  month  or  two  hence  be  deemed  ad- 
visable that  she  should  go  either  to  the  seaside  or  to  some 
inland  watering-place — and  should  papa  be  disinclined  to 
move,  and  I  consequently  obliged  to  remain  at  home — she 
asks,  could  you  be  her  companion  ?  Of  course  I  need  not 
add  that  in  the  event  of  such  an  arrangement  being  made, 
you  would  be  put  to  no  expense.  This,  dear  Ellen,  is 
Anne^s  proposal ;  I  make  it  to  comply  with  her  wish  ;  but, 
for  my  own  part,  I  must  add  that  I  see  serious  objections 
to  your  accepting  it — objections  I  cannot  name  to  her. 
She  continues  to  vary ;  is  sometimes  worse,  and  sometimes 
better,  as  the  weather  changes ;  but,  on  the  whole,  I  fear 
she  loses  strength.  Papa  says  her  state  is  most  precarious ; 
she  may  be  spared  for  some  time,  or  a  sudden  alteration 
might  remove  her  before  we  are  aware.  Were  such  an  al- 
teration to  take  place  while  she  was  far  from  home,  and 
alone  with  you,  it  would  be  terrible.  The  idea  of  it  dis- 
tresses me  inexpressibly,  and  I  tremble  whenever  she  al- 
ludes to  the  project  of  a  journey.  In  short,  I  wish  we 
could  gain  time,  and  see  how  she  gets  on.  If  she  leaves 
home,  it  certainly  should  not  be  in  the  capricious  month 
of  May,  which  is  proverbially  trying  to  the  weak.  June 
would  be  a  safer  month.  If  we  could  reach  June  I  should 
have  good  hopes  of  her  getting  through  the  summer.  Write 
such  an  answer  to  this  note  as  I  can  show  Anne.    You  can 


1849 


LETTER  FROM  ANNE  BRONTE 


407 


write  any  additional  remarks  to  me  on  a  separate  piece  of 
paper.  Do  not  consider  yourself  as  confined  to  discussing 
only  our  sad  affairs.  I  am  interested  in  all  that  interests 
you.' 

FROM  Ai^NE  BROKTE. 

*  April  5,  1849. 

'  My  dear  Miss  (Nussey), — I  thank  you  greatly  for  your 
kind  letter,  and  your  ready  compliance  with  my  proposal, 
as  far  as  the  ivill  can  go  at  least.  I  see,  however,  that  your 
friends  are  unwilling  that  you  should  undertake  the  re- 
sponsibility of  accompanying  me  under  present  circum- 
stances. But  I  do  not  think  there  would  be  any  great  re- 
sponsibility in  the  matter.  I  know,  and  everybody  knows, 
that  you  would  be  as  kind  and  helpful  as  any  one  could 
possibly  be,  and  I  hope  I  should  not  be  very  troublesome. 
It  would  be  as  a  companion,  not  as  a  nurse,  that  I  should 
wish  for  your  company  ;  otherwise  I  should  not  venture  to 
ask  it.  As  for  your  kind  and  often-repeated  invitation  to 
(Birstall,)  pray  give  my  sincere  thanks  to  your  mother  and 
sisters,  but  tell  them  I  could  not  think  of  inflicting  my 
presence  upon  them  as  I  now  am.  It  is  very  kind  of  them 
to  make  so  light  of  the  trouble,  but  still  there  must  be 
more  or  less,  and  certainly  no  pleasure,  from  the  society  of 
a  silent  invalid  stranger.  I  hope,  however,  that  Charlotte 
will  by  some  means  make  it  possible  to  accompany  me  after 
all.  She  is  certainly  very  delicate,  and  greatly  needs  a 
change  of  air  and  scene  to  renovate  her  constitution.  And 
then  your  going  with  me  before  the  end  of  May  is  appar- 
ently out  of  the  question,  unless  you  are  disappointed  in 
your  visitors  ;  but  I  should  be  reluctant  to  wait  till  then,  if 
the  weather  would  at  all  permit  an  earlier  departure.  You 
say  May  is  a  trying  month,  and  so  say  others.  The  earlier 
part  is  often  cold  enough,  I  acknowledge,  but,  according  to 
my  experience,  we  are  almost  certain  of  some  fine  warm 
days  in  the  latter  half,  when  the  laburnums  and  lilacs  are 
in  bloom  ;  whereas  June  is  often  cold,  and  July  generally 
wet.    But  I  have  a  more  serious  reason  than  this  for  my 


7 


408  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

impatience  of  delay.  The  doctors  say  that  change  of  air 
or  removal  to  a  better  climate  would  hardly  ever  fail  of 
success  in  consumptive  cases,  if  the  remedy  were  taken  in 
tirne;  but  the  reason  why  there  are  so  many  disappoint- 
ments is,  that  it  is  generally  deferred  till  it  is  too  late. 
Now  I  would  not  commit  this  error ;  and,  to  say  the  truth, 
though  I  suffer  much  less  from  pain  and  fever  than  I  did 
when  you  were  with  us,  I  am  decidedly  weaker,  and  very 
much  thinner.  My  cough  still  troubles  me  a  good  deal, 
especially  in  the  night,  and,  what  seems  worse  than  all,  I 
am  subject  to  great  shortness  of  breath  on  going  upstairs 
or  any  slight  exertion.  Under  these  circumstances  I  think 
there  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  I  have  no  horror  of  death :  if 
I  thought  it  inevitable,  I  think  I  could  quietly  resign  my- 
self to  the  prospect,  in  the  hope  that  you,  dear  Miss  (Nus- 
sey),  would  give  as  much  of  your  company  as  you  possibly 
could  to  Charlotte,  and  be  a  sister  to  her  in  my  stead.  But 
I  wish  it  would  please  God  to  spare  me,  not  only  for  papa^s 
and  Charlotte's  sakes,  but  because  I  long  to  do  some  good 
in  the  world  before  I  leave  it.  I  have  many  schemes  in  my 
head  for  future  practice — humble  and  limited  indeed — but 
still  I  should  not  like  them  all  to  come  to  nothing,  and  my- 
self to  have  lived  to  so  little  purpose.  But  God's  will  be 
done.  Remember  me  respectfully  to  your  mother  and  sis- 
ters, and  believe  me,  dear  Miss  (Nussey),  yours  most  affec- 
tionately. Anne  Bronte/ 

It  must  have  been  about  this  time  that  Anne  composed 
her  last  verses,  before  '  the  desk  was  closed,  and  the  pen 
laid  aside  for  ever.' 


I  hoped  that  with  the  brave  and  strong 
My  portioned  taslc  might  lie  ; 

To  toil  amid  the  busy  throng, 
With  purpose  pure  and  high. 


LAST  VERSES  OF  ANNE  BRONTE 


409 


II. 

But  God  has  fixed  another  part, 

And  He  has  fixed  it  well : 
I  said  so  with  my  bleeding  heart 

When  first  the  anguish  fell. 

III. 

Thou,  God,  hast  taken  our  delight, 

Oar  treasured  hope  away  ; 
Thou  bidst  us  now  weep  through  the  night, 

And  sorrow  through  the  day. 

IV. 

These  weary  hours  will  not  be  lost. 

These  days  of  misery — 
These  nights  of  darkness,  anguish-tost — 

Can  I  but  turn  to  Thee, 

V. 

With  secret  labour  to  sustain 

In  humble  patience  every  blow 
To  gather  fortitude  from  pain. 

And  hope  and  holiness  from  woe. 

VI. 

Thus  let  me  serve  Thee  from  my  heart, 
Whate'er  may  be  my  written  fate  ; 

Whether  thus  early  to  depart, 
Or  yet  a  while  to  wait. 

VII. 

If  Thou  shouldst  bring  me  back  to  life. 

More  humbled  I  should  be  ; 
More  wise — more  strengthened  for  the  strife. 

More  apt  to  lean  on  Thee. 

VIII. 

Should  death  be  standing  at  the  gate, 

Thus  should  I  keep  my  vow  ; 
But,  Lord,  whatever  be  my  fate, 

Oh  !  let  me  serve  Thee  now  ! 


410  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


I  take  Oharlotte^s  own  words  as  the  best  record  of  her 
thoughts  and  feelings  during  all  this  terrible  time. 

'  April  12. 

^  I  read  Anne^s  letter  to  you  ;  it  was  touching  enough,  as 
you  say.  If  there  were  no  hope  beyond  this  world  —  no 
eternity — no  life  to  come  —  Emily^s  fate,  and  that  which 
threatens  Anne,  would  be  heart-breaking.  I  cannot  forget 
Emily^s  death  day ;  it  becomes  a  more  fixed,  a  darker,  a 
more  frequently  recurring  idea  in  my  mind  than  ever.  It 
was  very  terrible.  She  was  torn,  conscious,  panting,  reluc- 
tant, though  resolute,  out  of  a  happy  life.  But  it  will  not 
do  to  dwell  on  these  things. 

am  glad  your  friends  object  to  your  going  with  Anne : 
it  would  never  do.  To  speak  truth,  even  if  your  mother 
and  sisters  had  consented  I  never  could.  It  is  not  that 
there  is  any  laborious  attention  to  pay  her ;  she  requires, 
and  will  accept,  but  little  nursing ;  but  there  would  be 
hazard,  and  anxiety  of  mind,  beyond  what  you  ought  to  be 
subject  to.  If,  a  month  or  six  weeks  hence,  she  continues 
to  wish  for  a  change  as  much  as  she  does  now,  I  shall  (D.  V.) 
go  with  her  myself.  It  will  certainly  be  my  paramount 
duty ;  other  cares  must  be  made  subservient  to  that.  I 
have  consulted  Mr.  T(eale) :  he  does  not  object,  and  rec- 
ommends Scarborough,  which  was  Anne^s  own  choice.  I 
trust  affairs  may  be  so  ordered  that  you  may  be  able  to  be 
with  us  at  least  part  of  the  time.  .  .  .  Whether  in  lodg- 
ings or  not,  I  should  wish  to  be  boarded.  Providing  one- 
self is,  I  think,  an  insupportable  nuisance.  I  don^t  like 
keeping  provisions  in  a  cupboard,  locking  up,  being  pil- 
laged, and  all  that.    It  is  a  petty  wearing  annoyance.^ 

The  progress  of  Anne's  illness  was  slower  than  that  of 
Emily's  had  been  ;  and  she  was  too  unselfish  to  refuse  try- 
ing means,  from  which,  if  she  herself  had  little  hope  of 
benefit,  her  friends  might  hereafter  derive  a  mournful  sat- 
isfaction. 


1849 


ILLNESS  OF  ANNE  BRONTE 


411 


began  to  flatter  myself  she  was  getting  strength.  But 
the  change  to  frost  has  told  upon  her  :  she  suffers  more  of 
late.  Still  her  illness  has  none  of  the  fearful  rapid  symp- 
toms which  appalled  us  in  Emily's  case.  Could  she  only 
get  over  the  spring,  I  hope  summer  may  do  much  for  her, 
and  then  early  removal  to  a  warmer  locality  for  the  winter 
might,  at  least,  prolong  her  life.  Could  we  only  reckon 
upon  another  year  I  should  be  thankful  ;  but  can  w^e  do 
this  for  the  healthy  ?  A  few  days  ago  I  wrote  to  have  Dr. 
Forbes's  opinion.  He  is  editor  of  the  Medical  Review 
and  one  of  the  first  authorities  in  England  on  consumptive 
cases.*  He  warned  us  against  entertaining  sanguine  hopes 
of  recovery.  The  cod-liver  oil  he  considers  a  peculiarly 
efficacious  medicine.  He,  too,  disapproved  of  change  of 
residence  for  the  present.  There  is  some  feeble  consola- 
tion in  thinking  we  are  doing  the  very  best  that  can  be 
done.  The  agony  of  forced  total  neglect  is  not  now  felt, 
as  during  Emily's  illness.  Never  may  we  be  doomed  to 
feel  such  agony  again  !  It  was  terrible.  I  have  felt  much 
less  of  the  disagreeable  pains  in  my  chest  lately,  and  much 
less  also  of  the  soreness  and  hoarseness.  I  tried  an  appli- 
cation of  hot  vinegar,  which  seemed  to  do  good.' 

*May  1. 

^  I  was  glad  to  hear  that  when  we  go  to  Scarborough  you 
will  be  at  liberty  to  go  with  us,  but  the  journey  and  its 
consequences  still  continue  a  source  of  great  anxiety  to 
me ;  I  must  try  to  put  it  off  two  or  three  weeks  longer  if  I 
can  :  perhaps  by  that  time  the  milder  season  may  have 

*  Dr.  Forbes  (1787-1861)  was  knighted  and  became  Sir  John  Forbes 
in  1853.  He  was  born  at  Cuttlebrae,  Banffshire,  and  was  educated  at 
the  Aberdeen  Grammar  School  and  Marischal  College.  He  settled  as 
a  medical  practitioner  at  Penzance  about  the  time  that  Maria  Bran- 
well  left  that  town  to  become  Mrs.  Brontt5.  In  1849  Forbes  was  a 
fashionable  London  doctor,  physician  to  the  Queen's  Household,  and 
a  prominent  investigator  of  mesmerism.  He  had  edited  the  British 
and  Foreign  Medical  Review  from  its  start  in  1836  until  its  discontinu- 
ance in  1847. 


412 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


given  Anne  more  strength  —  perhaps  it  will  be  otherwise  ; 
I  cannot  tell.  The  change  to  fine  weather  has  not  proved 
beneficial  to  her  so  far.  She  has  sometimes  been  so  weak, 
and  suffered  so  much  pain  in  the  side,  during  the  last  few 
days,  that  I  have  not  known  what  to  think.  .  .  .  She  may 
rally  again  and  be  much  better,  but  there  must  be  some 
improvement  before  I  can  feel  justified  in  taking  her  away 
from  home.  Yet  to  delay  is  painful ;  for,  as  is  always  the 
case,  I  believe,  under  her  circumstances,  she  seems  herself 
not  half  conscious  of  the  necessity  for  such  delay.  She 
wonders,  I  believe,  why  I  don^t  talk  more  about  the  jour- 
ney :  it  grieves  me  to  think  she  may  even  be  hurt  by  my 
seeming  tardiness.  She  is  very  much  emaciated — far  more 
than  when  you  were  with  us  ;  her  arms  are  no  thicker  than 
a  little  child's.  The  least  exertion  brings  a  shortness  of 
breath.  She  goes  out  a  little  every  day,  but  we  creep 
rather  than  walk.  .  .  .  Papa  continues  pretty  well.  I 
hope  I  shall  be  enabled  to  bear  up.  So  far  I  have  reason 
for  thankfulness  to  God.^ 

May  had  come,  and  brought  the  milder  weather  longed 
for ;  but  Anne  was  worse  for  the  very  change.  A  little 
later  on  it  became  colder,  and  she  rallied,  and  poor  Char- 
lotte began  to  hope  that,  if  May  were  once  over,  she  might 
last  for  a  long  time.  Miss  Bronte  wrote  to  engage  the 
lodgings  at  Scarborough — a  place  which  Anne  had  former- 
ly visited  with  the  family  to  whom  she  was  governess.' 

^  '  We  have  engaged  lodgings  at  Scarbro'/  she  writes  to  Miss  Ellen 
Nussey.  *  We  stipulated  for  a  good-sized  sitting-room  and  an  airy 
double-bedded  lodging  room,  with  a  sea  view,  and,  if  not  deceived, 
have  obtained  these  desiderata  at  No.  2  Cliff.  Anne  says  it  is  one  of 
the  best  situations  in  the  place.  It  would  not  have  done  to  have  taken 
lodgings  either  in  the  town  or  on  the  bleak  steep  coast,  where  Miss 
Wooler's  house  is  situated.  If  Anne  is  to  get  any  good  she  must  have 
every  advantage.  Miss  Outh waite  [her  godmother]  left  her  in  her  will 
a  legacy  of  200^.,  and  she  cannot  employ  her  money  better  than  in  obtain- 
ing what  may  prolong  existence,  if  it  does  not  restore  health.  We  hope 
to  leave  home  on  the  23rd,  and  I  think  it  will  be  advisable  to  rest  at 
York,  and  stay  all  night  there.    I  hope  this  arrangement  will  suit 


A  JOURNEY  TO  SCARBOROUGH  413 


They  took  a  good-sized  sitting-room,  and  an  airy  double- 
bedded  room  (both  commanding  a  sea  view),  in  one  of  the 
best  situations  of  the  town.  Money  was  as  nothing  in  com- 
parison with  life ;  besides,  Anne  had  a  small  legacy  left  to 
her  by  her  godmother,  and  they  felt  that  she  could  not 
better  employ  this  than  in  obtaining  what  might  prolong 
life,  if  not  restore  health.     On  May  16  Charlotte  writes — 

^It  is  with  a  heavy  heart  I  prepare:  and  earnestly  do  I 
wish  the  fatigue  of  the  journey  were  well  over.  It  may  be 
borne  better  than  I  expect ;  for  temporary  stimulus  often 
does  much  ;  but  when  I  see  the  daily  increasing  weakness 
I  know  not  what  to  think.  I  fear  you  will  be  shocked  when 
you  see  Anne  ;  but  be  on  your  guard,  dear  Ellen,  not  to 
express  your  feelings ;  indeed,  I  can  trust  both  your  self- 
possession  and  kindness.  I  wish  my  judgment  sanctioned 
the  step  of  going  to  Scarborough  more  fully  than  it  does. 
You  ask  how  I  have  arranged  about  leaving  papa.  I  could 
make  no  special  arrangement.  He  wishes  me  to  go  with 
Anne,  and  would  not  hear  of  Mr.  N  's  ^  coming,  or  any- 
thing of  that  kind  ;  so  I  do  what  I  believe  is  for  the  best, 
and  leave  the  result  to  Providence.' 

They  planned  to  rest  and  spend  a  night  at  York  ;  and,  at 
Anne's  desire,  arranged  to  make  some  purchases  there. 
Charlotte  ends  the  letter  to  her  friend,  in  which  she  tells 
her  all  this,  with — 

*  May  23. 

wish  it  seemed  less  like  a  dreary  mockery  in  us  to 

you.  We  reckon  on  your  society,  dear  Ellen,  as  a  real  privilege  and 
pleasure.  We  shall  take  little  luggage,  and  shall  have  to  buy  bonnets 
and  dresses  and  several  other  things  either  at  York  or  Scarbro'  ;  which 
place  do  you  think  would  be  best  ?  Oh,  if  it  would  please  God  to 
strengthen  and  revive  Anne,  how  happy  v^e  might  be  together  !  His 
will,  however,  must  be  done,  and  if  she  is  not  to  recover  it  remains 
to  pray  for  strength  and  patience.' 

'  Mr.  Nicholls,  the  curate  at  Haworth,  who  afterwards  became 
Charlotte  Bronte's  husband. 


I 


414 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


talk  of  buying  bonnets^  &c.  Anne  was  very  ill  yesterday. 
She  had  difficulty  of  breathing  all  day,  even  when  sitting 
perfectly  still.  To-day  she  seems  better  again.  I  long  for 
the  moment  to  come  when  the  experiment  of  the  sea  air 
will  be  tried.  Will  it  do  her  good  ?  I  cannot  tell ;  I  can 
only  wish.  Oh!  if  it  would  please  God  to  strengthen  and 
revive  Anne,  how  happy  we  might  be  together :  His  will, 
however,  be  done 

The  two  sisters  left  Haworth  on  Thursday,  May  24. 
They  were  to  have  done  so  the  day  before,  and  had  made 
an  appointment  with  their  friend  to  meet  them  at  the 
Leeds  station,  in  order  that  they  might  all  proceed  to- 
gether. But  on  Wednesday  morning  Anne  was  so  ill  that 
it  was  impossible  for  the  sisters  to  set  out ;  yet  they  had  no 
means  of  letting  their  friend  know  of  this,  and  she  conse- 
quently arrived  at  the  Leeds  station  at  the  time  specified. 
There  she  sat  waiting  for  several  hours.  It  struck  her  as 
strange  at  the  time — and  it  almost  seems  ominous  to  her 
fancy  now — that  twice  over,  from  two  separate  arrivals  on 
the  line  by  which  she  was  expecting  her  friends,  coffins 
were  carried  forth,  and  placed  in  hearses  which  were  wait- 
ing for  their  dead,  as  she  was  waiting  for  one  in  four  days 
to  become  so. 

The  next  day  she  could  bear  suspense  no  longer,  and 
set  out  for  Haworth,  reaching  there  just  in  time  to  carry 
the  feeble,  fainting  invalid  into  the  chaise  which  was  wait- 
ing to  take  them  down  to  Keighley.  The  servant  who 
stood  at  the  Parsonage  gates  saw  Death  written  on  her  face, 
and  spoke  of  it.  Charlotte  saw  it  and  did  not  speak  of  it 
— it  would  have  been  giving  the  dread  too  distinct  a  form; 
and  if  this  last  darling  yearned  for  the  change  to  Scar- 
borough, go  she  should,  however  Charlotte's  heart  might 
be  wrung  by  impending  fear.  The  lady  who  accompanied 
them,  Charlotte's  beloved  friend  of  more  than  twenty  years, 
has  kindly  written  out  for  me  the  following  account  of  the 
journey — and  of  the  end: — 


1849 


LAST  DAYS  OF  ANNE  BRONTE 


415 


'  She  left  her  home  May  24, 1849— died  May  28.  Her  life 
was  calm,  quiet,  spiritual  :  such  was  her  end.  Through 
the  trials  and  fatigues  of  the  journey  she  evinced  the  pious 
courage  and  fortitude  of  a  martyr.  Dependence  and  help- 
lessness were  ever  with  her  a  far  sorer  trial  than  hard,  rack- 
ing pain. 

'The  first  stage  of  our  journey  was  to  York;  and  here 
the  dear  invalid  was  so  revived,  so  cheerful,  and  so  happy, 
we  drew  consolation,  and  trusted  that  at  least  temporary 
improvement  was  to  be  derived  from  the  change  which  she 
had  so  longed  for,  and  her  friends  had  so  dreaded  for  her. 

'  By  her  request  we  went  to  the  Minster,  and  to  her  it 
was  an  overpowering  pleasure  ;  not  for  its  own  imposing 
and  impressive  grandeur  only,  but  because  it  brought  to 
her  susceptible  nature  a  vital  and  overwhelming  sense  of 
omnipotence.  She  said,  while  gazing  at  the  structure,  If 
finite  power  can  do  this,  what  is  the  .  .  .  and  here  emo- 
tion stayed  her  speech,  and  she  was  hastened  to  a  less  ex- 
citing scene. 

^  Her  weakness  of  body  was  great,  but  her  gratitude  for 
every  mercy  was  greater.  After  such  an  exertion  as  walk- 
ing to  her  bedroom  she  would  clasp  her  hands  and  raise 
her  eyes  in  silent  thanks,  and  she  did  this  not  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  wonted  prayer,  for  that  too  was  performed  on 
bended  knee,  ere  she  accepted  the  rest  of  her  couch. 

^  On  the  25th  we  arrived  at  Scarborough  ;  our  dear  in- 
valid having,  during  the  journey,  directed  our  attention 
to  every  prospect  worthy  of  notice. 

'  On  the  26th  she  drove  on  the  sands  for  an  hour  ;  and 
lest  the  poor  donkey  should  be  urged  by  its  driver  to  a 
greater  speed  than  her  tender  heart  thought  right,  she 
took  the  reins  and  drove  herself.  When  joined  by  her 
friend  she  was  charging  the  boy-master  of  the  donkey  to 
treat  the  poor  animal  well.  She  was  ever  fond  of  dumb 
things,  and  would  give  up  her  own  comfort  for  them. 

^On  Sunday,  the  27th,  she  wished  to  go  to  church,  and 
her  eye  brightened  with  the  thought  of  once  more  worship- 


416 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


ping  her  God  amongst  her  fellow  creatures.^  We  thought 
it  prudent  to  dissuade  her  from  the  attempt,  though  it 
was  evident  her  heart  was  longing  to  join  in  the  public 
act  of  devotion  and  praise. 

^  She  walked  a  little  in  the  afternoon,  and  meeting  with 
a  sheltered  and  comfortable  seat  near  the  beach,  she  begged 
we  would  leave  her,  and  enjoy  the  various  scenes  near  at 

*  On  Sunday,  the  27th,  the  day  before  her  sister  died,  Charlotte 
wrote  to  Mr.  Williams — 

»  No.  2  Cliff,  Scarboro* :  May  27,  1849. 

*  My  dear  Sir, — The  date  above  will  inform  you  why  I  have  not  an- 
swered your  letter  more  promptly.  I  have  been  busy  with  prepara- 
tions for  departure  and  with  the  journey.  I  am  thankful  to  say  we 
reached  our  destination  safely,  having  rested  one  night  at  York.  We 
found  assistance  wherever  we  needed  it ;  there  was  always  an  arm 
ready  to  do  for  my  sister  what  I  was  not  quite  strong  enough  to  do — 
lift  her  in  and  out  of  the  carriages,  carry  her  across  the  line,  &c. 

*  It  made  her  happy  to  see  both  York  and  its  Minster  and  Scarboro' 
and  its  bay  once  more.  There  is  yet  no  revival  of  bodily  strength  ;  I 
fear,  indeed,  the  slow  ebb  continues.  People  who  see  her  tell  me  I 
must  not  expect  her  to  last  long  ;  but  it  is  something  to  cheer  her 
mind. 

*  Our  lodgings  are  pleasant.  As  Anne  sits  at  the  window  she  can 
look  down  on  the  sea,  which  this  morning  is  calm  as  glass.  She  says 
if  she  could  breathe  more  freely  she  would  be  comfortable  at  this  mo- 
ment ;  but  she  cannot  breathe  freely. 

*  My  friend  Ellen  is  with  us.  I  find  her  presence  a  solace.  She  is  a 
calm,  steady  girl — not  brilliant,  but  good  and  true.  She  suits  and  has 
always  suited  me  well.  I  like  her,  with  her  phlegm,  repose,  sense, 
and  sincerity,  better  than  I  should  like  the  most  talented  without  these 
qualifications. 

'  If  ever  I  see  you  again  I  should  have  pleasure  in  talking  over  with 
you  the  topics  you  allude  to  in  your  last — or  rather  in  hearing  you 
talk  them  over.  We  see  these  things  through  a  glass  darkly — or  at 
least  I  see  them  thus.  So  far  from  objecting  to  speculation  on,  or  dis- 
cussion of,  the  subject,  I  should  wish  to  hear  what  others  have  to 
say.  By  others  I  mean  only  the  serious  and  reflective  ;  levity  in  such 
matters  shocks  as  much  as  hypocrisy. 

*  Write  to  me.  In  this  strange  place  your  letters  will  come  like  the 
visits  of  a  friend.  Fearing  to  lose  the  post,  I  will  add  no  more  at  pres- 
ent.— Believe  me  yours  sincerely,  '  C.  Bronte.' 


i 


1849 


LAST  DAYS  OF  ANNE  BRONTE 


417 


hand,  which  were  new  to  us  but  familiar  to  her.  She 
loved  the  place,  and  wished  us  to  share  her  preference. 

'  The  evening  closed  in  with  the  most  glorious  sunset  ever 
witnessed.  The  castle  on  the  cliff  stood  in  proud  glory, 
gilded  by  the  rays  of  the  declining  sun.  The  distant  ships 
glittered  like  burnished  gold ;  the  little  boats  near  the 
beach  heaved  on  the  ebbing  tide,  inviting  occupants.  The 
view  was  grand  beyond  description.  Anne  was  drawn  in  her 
easy  chair  to  the  window,  to  enjoy  the  scene  with  us.  Her 
face  became  illumined  almost  as  much  as  the  glorious 
scene  she  gazed  upon.  Little  was  said,  for  it  was  plain  that 
her  thoughts  were  driven  by  the  imposing  view  before  her 
to  penetrate  forwards  to  the  regions  of  unfading  glory.  She 
again  thought  of  public  worship,  and  wished  us  to  leave 
her,  and  join  those  who  were  assembled  at  the  house  of 
God.  We  declined,  gently  urging  the  duty  and  pleasure 
of  staying  with  her,  who  was  now  so  dear  and  so  feeble. 
On  returning  to  her  place  near  the  fire  she  conversed  with 
her  sister  upon  the  propriety  of  returning  to  their  home. 
She  did  not  wish  it  for  her  own  sake,  she  said ;  she  was 
fearing  others  might  suffer  more  if  her  decease  occurred 
where  she  was.  She  probably  thought  the  task  of  accom- 
panying her  lifeless  remains  on  a  long  journey  was  more 
than  her  sister  could  bear — more  than  the  bereaved  father 
could  bear,  were  she  borne  home  another  and  a  third  ten- 
ant of  the  family  vault  in  the  short  space  of  nine  months. 

^  The  night  was  passed  without  any  apparent  accession 
of  illness.  She  rose  at  seven  o'clock,  and  performed  most 
of  her  toilet  herself,  by  her  expressed  wish.  Her  sister 
always  yielded  such  points,  believing  it  was  the  truest 
kindness  not  to  press  inability  when  it  was  not  acknowl- 
edged. Nothing  occurred  to  excite  alarm  till  about  11 
A.M.  She  then  spoke  of  feeling  a  change.  She  believed 
she  had  not  long  to  live.  Could  she  reach  home  alive,  if 
we  prepared  immediately  for  departure  A  physician 
was  sent  for.  Her  address  to  him  was  made  with  perfect 
composure.  She  begged  him  to  say  ^'  how  long  he  thought 
27 


418  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


she  might  live — not  to  fear  speaking  the  truth,  for  she  was 
not  afraid  to  die/^  The  doctor  reluctantly  admitted  that 
the  angel  of  death  was  already  arrived,  and  that  life  was 
ebbing  fast.  She  thanked  him  for  his  truthfulness,  and 
he  departed  to  come  again  very  soon.  She  still  occupied 
her  easy  chair,  looking  so  serene,  so  radiant :  there  was  no 
opening  for  grief  as  yet,  though  all  knew  the  separation  was 
at  hand.  She  clasped  her  hands,  and  reverently  invoked 
a  blessing  from  on  high ;  first  upon  her  sister,  then  upon 
her  friend,  to  whom  she  said,  Be  a  sister  in  my  stead. 
Give  Charlotte  as  much  of  your  company  as  you  can." 
She  then  thanked  each  for  her  kindness  and  attention. 

^Ere  long  the  restlessness  of  approaching  death  appeared, 
and  she  was  borne  to  the  sofa.  On  being  asked  if  she  were 
easier  she  looked  gratefully  at  her  questioner,  and  said,  ^^It 
is  not  you  who  can  give  me  ease,  but  soon  all  will  be  well 
through  the  merits  of  our  Redeemer. Shortly  after  this, 
seeing  that  her  sister  could  hardly  restrain  her  grief,  she 
said,  ^^Take  courage,  Charlotte;  take  courage."  Her  faith 
never  failed,  and  her  eye  never  dimmed  till  about  two 
o'clock,  when  she  calmly,  and  without  a  sigh,  passed  from 
the  temporal  to  the  eternal.  So  still  and  so  hallowed  were 
her  last  hours  and  moments.  There  was  no  thought  of 
assistance  or  of  dread.  The  doctor  came  and  went  two  or 
three  times.  The  hostess  knew  that  death  was  near,  yet  so 
little  was  the  house  disturbed  by  the  presence  of  the  dying, 
and  the  sorrow  of  those  so  nearly  bereaved,  that  dinner  was 
announced  as  ready,  through  the  half-opened  door,  as  the 
living  sister  was  closing  the  eyes  of  the  dead  one.  She 
could  now  no  more  stay  the  welled-up  grief  of  her  sister 
with  her  emphatic  and  dying  Take  courage,"  and  it  burst 
forth  in  brief  but  agonising  strength.  Charlotte's  affec- 
tion, however,  had  another  channel,  and  there  it  turned  in 
thought,  in  care,  and  in  tenderness.  There  was  bereave- 
ment, but  there  was  not  solitude ;  sympathy  was  at  hand, 
and  it  was  accepted.  With  calmness  came  the  considera- 
tion of  the  removal  of  the  dear  remains  to  their  home  rest- 


1849  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE  419 


ing-place.  This  melancholy  task,  however,  was  never  per- 
formed ;  for  the  afflicted  sister  decided  to  lay  the  flower  in 
the  place  where  it  had  fallen.  She  believed  that  to  do  so 
would  accord  with  the  wishes  of  the  departed.  She  had  no 
preference  for  place.  She  thought  not  of  the  grave,  for 
that  is  but  the  body's  gaol,  but  of  all  that  is  beyond  it. 
'  Her  remains  rest 

'Where  the  south  sun  warms  the  now  dear  sod, 
Where  the  ocean  billows  lave  and  strike  the  steep  and  turf -covered 
rock.' 

Anne  died  on  the  Monday.  On  the  Tuesday  Charlotte 
wrote  to  her  father  ;  but  knowing  that  his  presence  was 
required  for  some  annual  church  solemnity  at  Haworth,  she 
informed  him  that  she  had  made  all  necessary  arrange- 
ments for  the  interment,  and  that  the  funeral  would 
take  place  so  soon  that  he  could  hardly  arrive  in  time  for 
it.^  The  surgeon  who  had  visited  Anne  on  the  day  of 
her  death  offered  his  attendance,  but  it  was  respectfully 
declined. 

^  A  lady  from  the  same  neighbourhood  as  Ellen  was  stay- 
ing in  Scarborough  at  this  time ;  she,  too,  kindly  offered 
sympathy  and  assistance  ;  and  when  that  solitary  pair  of 
mourners  (the  sister  and  the  friend)  arrived  at  the  church 
this  lady  was  there,  in  unobtrusive  presence,  not  the  less 
kind  because  unobtrusive.^ 

Mr.  Bronte  wrote  to  urge  Charlotte's  longer  stay  at  the 
seaside.  Her  health  and  spirits  were  sorely  shaken  ;  and 
much  as  he  naturally  longed  to  see  his  only  remaining 
child,  he  felt  it  right  to  persuade  her  to  take,  with  her 
friend,  a  few  more  weeks'  change  of  scene,  though  even 
that  could  not  bring  change  of  thought. 

*  The  inscription  on  the  tomb  at  Scarborough  churchyard  runs  as 
follows : — 

'Here  lie  the  Remains  of  Anne  Bronte,  Daughter  of  the  Rev.  P. 
Bronte,  Incumbent  of  Haworth,  Yoi^kshire.  Sfie  Died,  aged  28,  May  28, 
1849/ 


420 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


The  younger  servant^  Martha  Brown,  who  has  been  oc- 
casionally alluded  to  in  these  memoirs,  who  was  with  Miss 
Bronte  in  her  last  days,  and  who  still  remains  the  faithful 
servant  at  Haworth  Parsonage,  has  recently  sent  me  a  few 
letters  which  she  received  from  her  dearly  loved  mistress : 
one  of  them  I  will  insert  here,  as  it  refers  to  this  time: 

*June  5,  1849. 

^  Dear  Martha, — I  was  very  much  pleased  with  your  note, 
and  glad  to  learn  that  all  at  home  are  getting  on  pretty 
well.  It  will  still  be  a  week  or  ten  days  before  I  return, 
and  you  must  not  tire  yourself  too  much  with  the  clean- 
ing. 

^  My  sister  Anne's  death  could  not  be  otherwise  than  a 
great  trouble  to  me,  though  I  have  known  for  many  weeks 
that  she  could  not  get  better.  She  died  very  calmly  and 
gently  :  she  was  quite  sensible  to  the  last.  About  three 
minutes  before  she  died  she  said  she  was  very  happy,  and 
believed  she  was  passing  out  of  earth  into  heaven.  It  was 
not  her  custom  to  talk  much  about  religion  ;  but  she  was 
very  good,  and  I  am  certain  she  is  now  in  a  far  better  place 
than  any  this  world  contains. 

'  I  mean  to  send  one  of  the  boxes  home  this  week,  as  I 
have  more  luggage  than  is  convenient  to  carry  about.  Give 
my  best  love  to  Tabby. — I  am,  dear  Martha,  your  sincere 
friend,  0.  Brokte.' 

*  July  1849. » 

^  I  intended  to  have  written  a  line  to  you  to-day,  if  I  had 
not  received  yours.  We  did  indeed  part  suddenly  ;  it  made 
my  heart  ache  that  we  were  severed  without  the  time  to 
exchange  a  word  ;  and  yet  perhaps  it  was  better.  I  got  here 
a  little  before  eight  o'clock.  All  was  clean  and  bright, 
waiting  for  me.  Papa  and  the  servants  were  well ;  and  all 
received  me  with  an  affection  which  should  have  consoled. 
The  dogs  seemed  in  strange  ecstasy.  I  am  certain  they  re- 


*  To  Ellen  Nussey. 


im    RETURN  TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING  421 


garded  me  as  the  harbinger  of  others.  The  dumb  creatures 
thought  that^  as  I  was  returned,  those  who  had  been  so 
long  absent  were  not  far  behind. 

^  I  left  papa  soon,  and  went  into  the  dining-room  :  I  shut 
the  door — I  tried  to  be  glad  that  I  was  come  home.  I  have 
always  been  glad  before — except  once — even  then  I  was 
cheered.  But  this  time  joy  was  not  to  be  the  sensation. 
I  felt  that  the  house  was  all  silent — the  rooms  were  all 
empty.  I  remembered  where  the  three  were  laid — in  what 
narrow,  dark  dwellings — never  more  to  reappear  on  earth. 
So  the  sense  of  desolation  and  bitterness  took  possession  of 
me.  The  agony  that  toas  to  be  undergone,  and  luas  not  to 
be  avoided,  came  on.  I  underwent  it,  and  passed  a  dreary 
evening  and  night,  and  a  mournful  morrow ;  to-day  I  am 
better. 

'  I  do  not  know  how  life  will  pass,  but  I  certainly  do  feel 
confidence  in  Him  who  has  upheld  me  hitherto.  Solitude 
may  be  cheered  and  made  endurable  beyond  what  I  can 
believe.  The  great  trial  is  when  evening  closes  and  night 
approaches.  At  that  hour  we  used  to  assemble  in  the 
dining-room — we  used  to  talk.  Now  I  sit  by  myself — 
necessarily  I  am  silent.  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  their 
last  days,  remembering  their  sufferings,  and  what  they 
said  and  did,  and  how  they  looked  in  mortal  affliction. 
Perhaps  all  this  will  become  less  poignant  in  time. 

^  Let  me  thank  you  once  more,  dear  Ellen,  for  your 
kindness  to  me,  which  I  do  not  mean  to  forget.  How  did 
you  think  all  looking  at  your  home  ?  Papa  thought  me  a 
little  stronger  ;  he  said  my  eyes  were  not  so  sunken.^ 

'July  14, 1849.1 

^  I  do  not  much  like  giving  an  account  of  myself.  I  like 
better  to  go  out  of  myself,  and  talk  of  something  more 
cheerful.  My  cold,  wherever  I  got  it,  whether  at  Easton 
or  elsewhere,  is  not  vanished  yet.    It  began  in  my  head. 


1  To  Ellen  Nussey. 


422 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


then  I  had  a  sore  throat,  and  then  a  sore  chest,  with  a 
congh,  but  only  a  txifiing  cough,  which  I  still  have  at 
times.  The  pain  between  my  shoulders  likewise  amazed 
me  much.  Say  nothing  about  it,  for  I  confess  I  am  too 
much  disposed  to  be  nervous.  This  nervousness  is  a  hor- 
rid phantom.  I  dare  communicate  no  ailment  to  papa; 
his  anxiety  harasses  me  inexpressibly. 

^  My  life  is  what  I  expected  it  to  be.  Sometimes  when  I 
wake  in  the  morning,  and  know  that  Solitude,  Remem- 
brance, and  Longing  are  to  be  almost  my  sole  companions 
all  day  through — that  at  night  I  shall  go  to  bed  with  them, 
that  they  will  long  keep  me  sleepless — that  next  morning 
I  shall  wake  to  them  again  —  sometimes,  Nell,  I  have  a 
heavy  heart  of  it.  But  crushed  I  am  not,  yet ;  nor  robbed 
of  elasticity,  nor  of  hope,  nor  quite  of  endeavour.  I  have 
some  strength  to  fight  the  battle  of  life.  I  am  aware,  and 
can  acknowledge,  I  have  many  comforts,  many  mercies. 
Still  I  can  get  on.  But  I  do  hope  and  pray  that  never  may 
you,  or  any  one  I  love,  be  placed  as  I  am.  To  sit  in  a 
lonely  room — the  clock  ticking  loud  through  a  still  house 
— and  have  open  before  the  mind^s  eye  the  record  of  the 
last  year,  with  its  shocks,  sufferings,  losses,  is  a  trial. 

'  I  write  to  you  freely,  because  I  believe  you  will  hear  me 
with  moderation — that  you  will  not  take  alarm  or  think  me 
in  any  way  worse  off  than  I  am/ 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


The  tale  of  '  Shirley  ^  had  been  begun  soon  after  the  publi- 
cation of  ^  Jane  Eyre/  If  the  reader  will  refer  to  the  ac- 
count I  have  given  of  Miss  Bronte^s  school  days  at  Roe 
Head,  he  will  there  see  how  every  place  surrounding  that 
house  was  connected  with  the  Luddite  riots,  and  will  learn 
how  stories  and  anecdotes  of  that  time  were  rife  among 
the  inhabitants  of  the  neighbouring  villages;  how  Miss 
Wooler  herself,  and  the  elder  relations  of  most  of  her  school- 
fellows, must  have  known  the  actors  in  those  grim  disturb- 
ances. What  Charlotte  had  heard  there  as  a  girl  came  up 
in  her  mind  when,  as  a  woman,  she  sought  a  subject  for  her 
next  work ;  and  she  sent  to  Leeds  for  a  file  of  the  ^Mer- 
curies^ of  1812,  ^13,  and  ^14,  in  order  to  understand  the 
spirit  of  those  eventful  times.  She  was  anxious  to  write  of 
things  she  had  known  and  seen ;  and  among  the  number 
was  the  West  Yorkshire  character,  for  which  any  tale  laid 
among  the  Luddites  would  afford  full  scope.  In  '  Shirley' 
she  took  the  idea  of  most  of  her  characters  from  life,  al- 
though the  incidents  and  situations  were,  of  course,  ficti- 
tious. She  thought  that  if  these  last  were  purely  imagi- 
nary, she  might  draw  from  the  real  without  detection ;  but 
in  this  she  was  mistaken  :  her  studies  were  too  closely  ac- 
curate. This  occasionally  led  her  into  difficulties.  People 
recognised  themselves,  or  were  recognised  by  others,  in 
her  graphic  descriptions  of  their  personal  appearance,  and 
modes  of  action  and  turns  of  thought,  though  they  were 
placed  in  new  positions,  and  figured  awry  in  scenes  far  dif- 
ferent from  those  in  which  their  actual  life  had  been  passed. 
Miss  Bronte  was  struck  by  the  force  or  peculiarity  of  the 


m 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


character  of  some  one  whom  she  knew  ;  she  studied  it,  and 
analysed  it  with  subtle  power ;  and  having  traced  it  to  its 
germ,  she  took  that  germ  as  the  nucleus  of  an  imaginary 
character,  and  worked  outwards — thus  reversing  the  proc- 
ess of  analysation,  and  unconsciously  reproducing  the 
same  external  development.  The  ^  three  curates 'were  real 
living  men,  haunting  Haworth  and  the  neighbouring  dis- 
trict ;  and  so  obtuse  in  perception  that,  after  the  first  burst 
of  anger  at  having  their  ways  and  habits  chronicled  was 
over,  they  rather  enjoyed  the  joke  of  calling  each  other  by 
the  names  she  had  given  them.  ^Mrs.  Pryor^  was  well 
known  to  many  who  loved  the  original  dearly.  The  whole 
family  of  the  Yorkes  were,  I  have  been  assured,  almost 
daguerreotypes.  Indeed,  Miss  Bronte  told  me  that,  before 
publication,  she  had  sent  those  parts  of  the  novel  in  which 
these  remarkable  persons  are  introduced  to  one  of  the  sons; 
and  his  reply,  after  reading  it,  was  simply  that  ^  she  had  not 
drawn  them  strong  enough.'  From  those  many-sided  sons, 
I  suspect,  she  drew  all  that  there  was  of  truth  in  the  charac- 
ters of  the  heroes  in  her  first  two  works.  They,  indeed, 
were  almost  the  only  young  men  she  knew  intimately,  be- 
sides her  brother.  There  was  much  friendship,  and  still 
more  confidence,  between  the  Bronte  family  and  them — 
although  their  intercourse  was  often  broken  and  irregular. 
There  was  never  any  warmer  feeling  on  either  side. 

The  character  of  Shirley  herself  is  Charlotte's  representa- 
tion of  Emily.  I  mention  this  because  all  that  I,  a  stranger, 
have  been  able  to  learn  about  her  has  not  tended  to  give 
either  me,  or  my  readers,  a  pleasant  impression  of  her.  But 
we  must  remember  how  little  we  are  acquainted  with  her, 
compared  with  that  sister,  who,  out  of  her  more  intimate 
knowledge,  says  that  she  ^was  genuinely  good,  and  truly 
great,'  and  who  tried  to  depict  her  character  in  Shirley 
Keeldar,  as  what  Emily  Bronte  would  have  been,  had  she 
been  placed  in  health  and  prosperity. 

Miss  Bronte  took  extreme  pains  with  *  Shirley.'  She  felt 
that  the  fame  she  had  acquired  imposed  upon  her  a  double 


1849     *  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH'  425 


responsibility.  She  tried  to  make  her  novel  like  a  piece  of 
actual  life  —  feeling  sure  that  if  she  but  represented  the 
product  of  personal  experience  and  observation  truly  good 
would  come  out  of  it  in  the  long  run.  She  carefully  studied 
the  different  reviews  and  criticisms  that  had  appeared  on 
^  Jane  Eyre/  in  hopes  of  extracting  precepts  and  advice  from 
which  to  profit. 

Down  into  the  very  midst  of  her  writing  came  the  bolts 
of  death.  She  had  nearly  finished  the  second  volume  of 
her  tale  when  Branwell  died — after  him  Emily — after  her 
Anne  ;  the  pen^  laid  down  when  there  were  three  sisters 
living  and  loving,  was  taken  up  when  one  alone  remained. 
Well  might  she  call  the  first  chapter  that  she  wrote  after 
this  ^The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.' 

I  knew  in  part  what  the  unknown  of  ^Shirley'  must 
have  suffered,  when  I  read  those  pathetic  words  which  oc- 
cur at  the  end  of  this  and  the  beginning  of  the  succeeding 
chapter  : — 

^  Till  break  of  day  she  wrestled  with  God  in  earnest  prayer. 

^Not  always  do  those  who  dare  such  divine  conflict  pre- 
vail. Night  after  night  the  sweat  of  agony  may  burst  dark 
on  the  forehead  ;  the  supplicant  may  cry  for  mercy  with 
that  soundless  voice  the  soul  utters  when  its  appeal  is  to 
the  Invisible.  Spare  my  beloved,'^  it  may  implore.  Heal 
my  life's  life.  Kend  not  from  me  what  long  affection  en- 
twines with  my  whole  nature.  God  of  heaven — bend — 
hear — be  clement  V  And  after  this  cry  and  strife  the  sun 
may  rise  and  see  him  worsted.  That  opening  morn,  which 
used  to  salute  him  with  the  whispers  of  zephyrs,  the  carol 
of  skylarks,  may  breathe,  as  its  first  accents,  from  the  dear 
lips  which  colour  and  heat  have  quitted,  Oh  !  I  have  had 
a  suffering  night !  This  morning  I  am  worse.  I  have  tried 
to  rise.  I  cannot.  Dreams  I  am  unused  to  have  troubled 
me.'' 

^  Then  the  watcher  approaches  the  patient's  pillow,  and 
sees  a  new  and  strange  moulding  of  the  familiar  features, 


426  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


feels  at  once  that  the  insufferable  moment  draws  nigh, 
knows  that  it  is  God^s  will  his  idol  should  be  broken,  and 
bends  his  head,  and  subdues  his  soul  to  the  sentence  he 
cannot  avert,  and  scarce  can  bear.  .  .  . 

^JSTo  piteous,  unconscious  moaning  sound  —  which  so 
wastes  our  strength  that,  even  if  we  have  sworn  to  be  firm, 
a  rush  of  unconquerable  tears  sweeps  away  the  oath — pre- 
ceded her  waking.  No  space  of  deaf  apathy  followed.  The 
first  words  spoken  were  not  those  of  one  becoming  estranged 
from  this  world,  and  already  permitted  to  stray  at  times  into 
realms  foreign  to  the  living.' 

She  went  on  with  her  work  steadily.  But  it  was  dreary 
to  write  without  any  one  to  listen  to  the  progress  of  her 
tale  —  to  find  fault  or  to  sympathise  —  while  pacing  the 
length  of  the  parlour  in  the  evenings,  as  in  the  days  that 
were  no  more.  Three  sisters  had  done  this  —  then  two, 
the  other  sister  dropping  ofiE  from  the  walk — and  now  one 
was  left  desolate,  to  listen  for  echoing  steps  that  never 
came,  and  to  hear  the  wind  sobbing  at  the  windows,  with 
an  almost  articulate  sound. 

But  she  wrote  on,  struggling  against  her  own  feelings 
of  illness ;  '  continually  recurring  feelings  of  slight  cold  ; 
slight  soreness  in  the  throat  and  chest,  of  which,  do  what 
I  will,^  she  writes,      cannot  get  rid.' 

In  August  there  arose  a  new  cause  for  anxiety,  happily 
but  temporary. 

'August  23,  1849. 

^  Papa  has  not  been  well  at  all  lately.  He  has  had  an- 
other attack  of  bronchitis.  I  felt  very  uneasy  about  him 
for  some  days — more  wretched  indeed  than  I  care  to  tell 
you.  After  what  has  happened  one  trembles  at  any  ap- 
pearance of  sickness  ;  and  when  anything  ails  papa  I  feel 
too  keenly  that  he  is  the  last — the  only  near  and  dear  rela- 
tive I  have  in  the  world.  Yesterday  and  to-day  he  has 
seemed  much  better,  for  which  I  am  truly  thankful.  .  .  . 

^  From  what  you  say  of  Mr.  C  ,  I  think  I  should  like 


1849 


COMPLETION  OF  *  SHIRLEY' 


427 


him  very  much.  A  wants  shaking  to  be  put  out  about  his 

appearance.  What  does  it  matter  whether  her  husband  dines 
in  a  dress  coat  or  a  market  coat,  provided  there  be  worth  and 
honesty  and  a  clean  shirt  underneath  ?' 

*  September  10,  1849. 

^  My  piece  of  work  is  at  last  finished,  and  despatched  to 
its  destination.  You  must  now  tell  me  when  there  is  a 
chance  of  your  being  able  to  come  here.  I  fear  it  will  now 
be  difficult  to  arrange,  as  it  is  so  near  the  marriage  day. 
Note  well,  it  would  spoil  all  my  pleasure  if  you  put  your- 
self or  any  one  else  to  inconvenience  to  come  to  Haworth. 
But  when  it  is  convenient  I  shall  be  truly  glad  to  see  you. 
.  .  .  Papa,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  is  better,  though  not 
strong.  He  is  often  troubled  with  a  sensation  of  nausea. 
My  cold  is  very  much  less  troublesome  ;  I  am  sometimes 
quite  free  from  it.  A  few  days  since  I  had  a  severe  bilious 
attack,  the  consequence  of  sitting  too  closely  to  my  writing ; 
but  it  is  gone  now.  It  is  the  first  from  which  I  have  suf- 
fered since  my  return  from  the  seaside.  I  had  them  every 
month  before.^ 

*  September  13,  1849. 
^If  duty  and  the  well-being  of  others  require  that  you 

should  stay  at  home,  I  cannot  permit  myself  to  complain  ; 
still  I  am  very,  very  sorry  that  circumstances  will  not  per- 
mit us  to  meet  just  now.  I  would  without  hesitation  come 
to  Birstall  if  papa  were  stronger ;  but  uncertain  as  are  both 
his  health  and  spirits,  I  could  not  possibly  prevail  on  my- 
self to  leave  him  now.  Let  us  hope  that  when  we  do  see 
each  other  our  meeting  will  be  all  the  more  pleasurable  for 
being  delayed.  Dear  Ellen,  you  certainly  have  a  heavy 
burden  laid  on  your  shoulders ;  but  such  burdens,  if  well 
borne,  benefit  the  character ;  only  we  must  take  the  great- 
est, closest,  most  watchful  care  not  to  grow  proud  of  our 
strength,  in  case  we  should  be  enabled  to  bear  up  under 
the  trial.  That  pride,  indeed,  would  be  a  sign  of  radical 
weakness.  The  strength,  if  strength  we  have,  is  certainly 
never  in  our  own  selves  ;  it  is  given  us/ 


428 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ. 

*  September  21,  1849. 

^My  dear  Sir, — I  am  obliged  to  you  for  preserving  my 
secret,  being  at  least  as  anxious  as  ever  {7nore  anxious  I 
cannot  well  be)  to  keep  quiet.  You  asked  me  in  one  of 
your  letters  lately  whether  I  thought  I  should-  escape  iden- 
tification in  Yorkshire.  1  am  so  little  known  that  I  think 
I  shall.  Besides,  the  book  is  far  less  founded  on  the  Real 
than  perhaps  appears.  It  would  be  diflBcult  to  explain  to 
you  how  little  actual  experience  I  have  had  of  life,  how  few 
^    persons  I  have  known,  and  how  very  few  have  known  me. 

^  As  an  instance  how  the  characters  have  been  managed 
take  that  of  Mr.  Helstone.  If  this  character  had  an  origi- 
nal it  was  in  the  person  of  a  clergyman  who  died  some 
years  since  at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty.  I  never  saw 
him  except  once — at  the  consecration  of  a  church — when  I 
was  a  child  of  ten  years  old.  I  was  then  struck  with  his 
appearance  and  stern,  martial  air.  At  a  subsequent  period 
I  heard  him  talked  about  in  the  neighbourhood  where  he 
had  resided  :  some  mentioned  him  with  enthusiasm,  others 
with  detestation.  I  listened  to  various  anecdotes,  balanced 
evidence  against  evidence,  and  drew  an  inference.  The 
original  of  Mr.  Hall  I  have  seen  ;  he  knows  me  slightly ; 
but  he  would  as  soon  think  I  had  closely  observed  him  or 
taken  him  for  a  character — he  would  as  soon,  indeed,  sus- 
pect me  of  writing  a  book — a  novel — as  he  would  his  dog 
Prince.  Margaret  Hall  called  ^^Jane  Eyre  a  wicked 
book,"  on  the  authority  of  the  Quarterly ;"  an  expres- 
sion which,  coming  from  her,  I  will  here  confess,  struck 
somewhat  deep.  It  opened  my  eyes  to  the  harm  the 
Quarterly"  had  done.  Margaret  would  not  have  called  it 
wicked  "  if  she  had  not  been  told  so. 

^No  matter — whether  known  or  unknown — misjudged 
or  the  contrary — I  am  resolved  not  to  write  otherwise.  I 
shall  bend  as  my  powers  tend.  The  two  human  beings  who 
understood  me,  and  whom  I  understood,  are  gone.    I  have 


1849 


ILLNESS  OF  ^ TABBY' 


429 


some  that  love  me  yet^  and  whom  I  love  without  expecting, 
or  having  a  right  to  expect,  that  they  shall  perfectly  under- 
stand me.  I  am  satisfied;  but  I  must  have  my  own  way  in 
the  matter  of  writing.  The  loss  of  what  we  possess  near- 
est and  dearest  to  us  in  this  world  produces  an  effect  upon 
the  character :  we  search  out  what  we  have  yet  left  that 
can  support,  and,  when  found,  we  cling  to  it  with  a  hold 
of  new-strung  tenacity.  The  faculty  of  imagination  lifted 
me  when  I  was  sinking,  three  months  ago  ;  its  active  exer- 
cise has  kept  my  head  above  water  since;  its  results  cheer 
me  now,  for  I  feel  they  have  enabled  me  to  give  pleasure 
to  others.  I  am  thankful  to  God,  who  gave  me  the  faculty; 
and  it  is  for  me  a  part  of  my  religion  to  defend  this  gift, 
and  to  profit  by  its  possession. — Yours  sincerely, 

'Charlotte  Brokte.'' 

At  the  time  when  this  letter  was  written  both  Tabby  and 
the  young  servant  whom  they  had  to  assist  her  were  ill  in 
bed ;  and,  with  the  exception  of  occasional  aid,  Miss  Bronte 
had  all  the  household  work  to  perform,  as  well  as  to  nurse 
the  two  invalids.  . 

The  serious  illness  of  the  younger  servant  was  at  its 
height,  when  a  cry  from  Tabby  called  Miss  Bronte  into  the 
kitchen,  and  she  found  the  poor  old  woman  of  eighty  laid 
on  the  floor,  with  her  head  under  the  kitchen  grate ;  she 
had  fallen  from  her  chair  in  attempting  to  rise.  When  I 
saw  her,  two  years  later,  she  described  to  me  the  tender 
care  which  Charlotte  had  taken  of  her  at  this  time;  and 
wound  up  her  account  of  how  'her  own  mother  could  not 
have  had  more  thought  for  her  nor  Miss  Bronte  had,'  by 
saying,  'Eh!  she's  a  good  one — she  is  T 

But  there  was  one  day  when  the  strung  nerves  gave  way 
— when,  as  she  says,  '  I  fairly  broke  down  for  ten  minutes ; 
sat  and  cried  like  a  fool.  Tabby  could  neither  stand  nor 
walk.  Papa  had  just  been  declaring  that  Martha  was  in 
imminent  danger.  I  was  myself  depressed  with  headache 
and  sickness.    That  day  I  hardly  knew  what  to  do  or  where 


430 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


to  turn.  Thank  God !  Martha  is  now  convalescent:  Tabby, 
I  trust,  will  be  better  soon.  Papa  is  pretty  well.  I  have  the 
satisfaction  of  knowing  that  my  publishers  are  delighted 
with  what  I  sent  them.  This  supports  me.  But  life  is  a 
battle.    May  we  all  be  enabled  to  fight  it  well!' 

The  kind  friend,  to  whom  she  thus  wrote,  saw  how  the 
poor  overtaxed  system  needed  bracing,  and  accordingly 
sent  her  a  shower-bath  —  a  thing  for  which  she  had  long 
been  wishing.  The  receipt  of  it  was  acknowledged  as  fol- 
lows : — 

*  September  28,  1849. 
^  .  .  .  Martha  is  now  almost  well,  and  Tabby  much  bet- 
ter. A  huge  monster  package,  from  Nelson,  Leeds,'' 
came  yesterday.  You  want  chastising  roundly  and  soundly. 
Such  are  the  thanks  you  get  for  all  your  trouble.  .  .  .  When- 
ever you  come  to  Haworth  you  shall  certainly  have  a  thor- 
ough drenching  in  your  own  shower-bath.  I  have  not  yet 
unpacked  the  wretch.    Yours,  as  you  deserve,      0.  B.' 

There  was  misfortune  of  another  kind  impending  over 
her.  There  were  some  railway  shares,  which,  so  early  as 
1846,  she  had  told  Miss  Wooler  she  wished  to  sell,  but  had 
kept  because  she  could  not  persuade  her  sisters  to  look  upon 
the  affair  as  she  did,  and  so  preferred  running  the  risk  of 
loss  to  hurting  Emily's  feelings  by  acting  in  opposition  to 
her  opinion.  The  depreciation  of  these  same  shares  was 
now  verifying  Charlotte's  soundness  of  judgment.  They 
were  in  the  York  and  North  Midland  Company,  which  was 
one  of  Mr.  Hudson's  pet  lines,  and  had  the  full  benefit  of 
his  peculiar  system  of  management.  She  applied  to  her 
friend  and  publisher,  Mr.  Smith,  for  information  on  the 
subject ;  and  the  following  letter  is  in  answer  to  his  reply: — 

'  October,  4,  1849. 
^  My  dear  Sir, — I  must  not  thanh  you  for,  but  acknowl- 
edge the  receipt  of,  your  letter.    The  business  is  certainly 
very  bad;  worse  than  I  thought,  and  much  worse  than  my 
father  has  any  idea  of.    In  fact,  the  little  railway  property 


LOSS  ON  RAILWAY  SHARES 


431 


I  possessed,  according  to  original  prices,  formed  already  a 
small  competency  lor  me,  with  my  views  and  habits.  Now 
scarcely  any  portion  of  it  can,  with  security,  be  calculated 
upon.  I  must  open  this  view  of  the  case  to  my  father  by 
degrees;  and,  meanwhile,  wait  patiently  till  I  see  how 
affairs  are  likely  to  turn.  .  .  .  However  the  matter  may 
terminate,  I  ought  perhaps  to  be  rather  thankful  than  dis- 
satisfied. When  I  look  at  my  own  case,  and  compare  it 
with  that  of  thousands  besides,  I  scarcely  see  room  for  a 
murmur.  Many,  very  many,  are  by  the  late  strange  rail- 
way system  deprived  almost  of  their  daily  bread.  Such, 
then,  as  have  only  lost  provision  laid  up  for  the  future 
should  take  care  how  they  complain.  The  thought  that 
Shirley"^  has  given  pleasure  at  Cornhill  yields  me  much 
quiet  comfort.  No  doubt,  however,  you  are,  as  I  am,  pre- 
pared for  critical  severity  ;  but  I  have  good  hopes  that  the 
vessel  is  sufficiently  sound  of  construction  to  weather  a  gale 
or  two,  and  to  make  a  prosperous  voyage  for  you  in  the 
end.^ 

Towards  the  close  of  October  in  this  year  she  went  to 
pay  a  visit  to  her  friend  ;  but  her  enjoyment  in  the  holiday, 
which  she  had  so  long  promised  herself  when  her  work  was 
completed,  was  deadened  by  a  continual  feeling  of  ill-health; 
either  the  change  of  air  or  the  foggy  weather  produced  con- 
stant irritation  at  the  chest.  Moreover  she  was  anxious 
about  the  impression  which  her  second  work  would  pro- 
duce on  the  public  mind.  For  obvious  reasons  an  author 
is  more  susceptible  to  opinions  pronounced  on  the  book 
which  follows  a  great  success  than  he  has  ever  been  before. 
Whatever  be  the  value  of  fame,  he  has  it  in  his  possession, 
and  is  not  willing  to  have  it  dimmed  or  lost. 

*  Shirley'  was  published  on  October  26.^ 

^  On  October  24  she  wrote  to  Mr.  George  Smith  from  Brookroyd, 
her  friend's  liome — 

*  Your  note,  enclosing  the  banker's  receipt,  reached  me  safely.  I 
should  have  acknowledged  it  before  had  I  not  been  from  home. 

'I  am  glad  Shirley  is  so  near  the  day  of  publication,  as  I  now  and 


433 


LIFE  OF  CHA]{LOTTE  BRONTfi 


When  it  came  out,  but  before  reading  it,  Mr.  Lewes 
wrote  to  tell  her  of  his  intention  of  reviewing  it  in  the 
^  Edinburgh/  Her  correspondence  with  him  had  ceased  for 
some  time  :  much  had  occurred  since. 

TO  G.  H.  LEWES,  ESQ. 

*  November  1,  1849. 
^  My  dear  Sir, — It  is  about  a  year  and  a  half  since  you 
wrote  to  me ;  but  it  seems  a  longer  pe^-iod,  because  since 
then  it  has  been  my  lot  to  pass  some  black  milestones  in 
the  journey  of  life.  Since  then  there  have  been  intervals 
when  I  have  ceased  to  care  about  literature  and  critics  and 
fame ;  when  I  have  lost  sight  of  whatever  was  prominent 
in  my  thoughts  at  the  first  publication  of  Jane  Eyre 
but  now  I  want  these  things  to  come  back  vividly,  if  possi- 
ble :  consequently  it  was  a  pleasure  to  receive  your  note.  I 
wish  you  did  not  think  me  a  woman.  I  wish  all  reviewers 
believed  Currer  Bell^^  to  be  a  man  ;  they  would  be  more 
just  to  him.  You  will,  I  know,  keep  measuring  me  by  some 
standard  of  what  you  deem  becoming  to  my  sex  ;  where  I  am 
not  what  you  consider  graceful  you  will  condemn  me.  All 
mouths  will  be  open  against  that  first  chapter,  and  that  first 
chapter  is  as  true  as  the  Bible,  nor  is  it  exceptionable. 
Come  what  will,  I  cannot,  when  I  write,  think  always  of 
myself  and  of  what  is  elegant  and  charming  in  femineity ; 
it  is  not  on  those  terms,  or  with  such  ideas,  I  ever  took  pen 
in  hand  :  and  if  it  is  only  on  such  terms  my  writing  will 
be  tolerated  I  shall  pass  away  from  the  public  and  trouble 
it  no  more.  Out  of  obscurity  I  came,  to  obscurity  I  can 
easily  return.  Standing  afar  off,  I  now  watch  to  see  what 
will  become  of  ^^Shirley.^^  My  expectations  are  very  low, 
and  my  anticipations  somewhat  sad  and  bitter ;  still,  I 
earnestly  conjure  you  to  say  honestly  what  you  think  ;  flat- 
then  feel  anxious  to  know  its  doom  and  learn  what  sort  of  reception  it 
will  get.  In  another  month  some  of  the  critics  will  have  pronounced 
their  fiat,  and  the  public  also  will  have  evinced  their  mood  towards  it. 
Meanwhile  patience.' 


1849 


PUBLICATION  OF  ^SHIRLEY' 


433 


tery  would  be  worse  than  vain  ;  there  is  no  consolation  in 
flattery.  As  for  condemnation^  I  cannot,  on  reflection,  see 
why  I  should  much  fear  it ;  there  is  no  one  but  myself  to 
suffer  therefrom,  and  both  happiness  and  suffering  in  this 
life  soon  pass  away.  Wishing  you  all  success  in  your  Scot- 
tish expedition,  I  am,  dear  Sir,  yours  sincerely, 

'  C.  Bell/ 

Miss  Bronte,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been  as  anxious  as 
ever  to  preserve  her  incognito  in  '  Shirley.^  She  even  fan- 
cied that  there  were  fewer  traces  of  a  female  pen  in  it  than 
in  ^  Jane  Eyre  ;^  and  thus,  when  the  earliest  reviews  were 
published,  and  asserted  that  the  mysterious  writer  must 
be  a  woman,  she  was  much  disappointed.  She  especially 
disliked  the  lowering -of  the  standard  by  which  to  judge  a 
work  of  fiction,  if  it  proceeded  from  a  feminine  pen ;  and 
praise  mingled  with  pseudo  -  gallant  allusions  to  .her  sex 
mortified  her  far  more  than  actual  blame. 

But  the  secret,  so  jealously  preserved,  was  oozing  out  at 
last.  The  publication  of  '  Shirley '  seemed  to  fix  the  con- 
viction that  the  writer  was  an  inhabitant  of  the  district 
where  the  story  was  laid.  And  a  clever  Haworth  man, 
who  had  somewhat  risen  in  the  world,  and  gone  to  settle 
in  Liverpool,  read  the  novel,  and  was  struck  with  some  of 
the  names  of  places  mentioned,  and  knew  the  dialect  in 
which  parts  of  it  were  written.  He  became  convinced  that 
it  was  the  production  of  some  one  in  Haworth.  But  he 
could  not  imagine  who  in  that  village  could  have  written 
such  a  work  except  Miss  Bronte.  Proud  of  his  conjecture, 
he  divulged  the  suspicion  (which  was  almost  certainty)  in 
the  columns  of  a  Liverpool  paper ;  thus  the  heart  of  the 
mystery  came  slowly  creeping  out ;  and  a  visit  to  London, 
which  Miss  Bronte  paid  towards  the  end  of  the  year  1849, 
made  it  distinctly  known.  She  had  been  all  along  on  most 
happy  terms  with  her  publishers  ;  and  their  kindness  had 
beguiled  some  of  those  weary,  solitary  hours  which  had  so 
often  occurred  of  late,  by  sending  for  her  perusal  boxes  of 


434  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


books  more  suited  to  her  tastes  than  any  she  could  pro- 
cure from  the  circulating  library  at  Keighley.  She  often 
writes  such  sentences  as  the  following  in  her  letters  to 
CornhiU  :— 

^  I  was  indeed  very  much  interested  in  the  books  you  sent/ 
Eckermann's  Conversations  with  Goethe,"  Guesses  at 
Truth,"  Friends  in  Council/'  and  the  little  work  on  Eng- 
lish social  life  pleased  me  particularly,  and  the  last  not 
least.  We  sometimes  take  a  partiality  to  books,  as  to 
characters,  not  on  account  of  any  brilliant  intellect  or 
striking  peculiarity  they  boast,  but  for  the  sake  of  some- 
thing good,  delicate,  and  genuine.  I  thought  that  small 
book  the  production  of  a  lady,  and  an  amiable,  sensible 
woman,  and  I  liked  it.  You  must  not  think  of  selecting 
any  more  works  for  me  yet ;  my  stock  is  still  far  from 
exhausted. 

^  I  accept  your  offer  respecting  the  "  Athenaeum ;"  it  is 
a  paper  I  should  like  much  to  see,  providing  that  you  can 
send  it  without  trouble.    It  shall  be  punctually  returned." 

In  a  letter  to  her  friend  she  complains  of  the  feelings  of 
illness  from  which  she  was  seldom  or  never  free. 

'  November  16,  1849. 
^  You  are  not  to  suppose  any  of  the  characters  in  Shir- 
ley" intended  as  literal  portraits.  It  would  not  suit  the 
rules  of  art,  nor  of  my  own  feelings,  to  write  in  that  style. 
We  only  suffer  reality  to  suggest,  never  to  dictate.  The 
heroines  are  abstractions,  and  the  heroes  also.  Qualities  I 
have  seen,  loved,  and  admired  are  here  and  there  put  in  as 
decorative  gems,  to  be  preserved  in  that  setting.  Since 
you  say  you  could  recognize  the  originals  of  all  except  the 
heroines,  pray  whom  did  you  suppose  the  two  Moores  to 

^  This  was  probably  John  Oxenford's  translation  of  Eckermann 
(1792-1854),  made  in  1849.  Sir  Arthur  Helps's  Friends  in  Council, 
First  Series,  was  published  in  1847.  Guesses  at  Truth  was  written  by 
Julius  and  Augustus  Hare,  and  published  anonymously  in  1827. 


TIIK  ICKVIKWS  ON  'SIIIKI.MV 


435 


reprt'SiMit  ?  1  soiul  you  a  ooupio  of  roviowH  ;  llio  oiin  is  in  iho 
•*  KxiinuiuM',"  writton  l^y  Alhjiiiy  roiil>ljiii(|iu\'  who  id  I'.iilUul 
tlu'  most  hrillijiiit  political  writiu'  of  tlu^  day,  a  luiui  whoso 
(liotiiMi  is  miit'h  tlKMii^ht  of  in  Ijondon.  TIk^  othor,  in  tho 
'•Stamhird  of  l^'roiMloin,"  is  written  l»y  William  llovvitt.'ii 
(^uaktM'  !  .  .  .  I  shtuiKl  Ik^  |)rotty  woll  if  it  wn  v  not  for 
lu'aihu'hos  ;iml  imligostion.  My  ohost  has  hcun  hcttor 
lately/ 

In  oonsoqnonco  of  this  [on«^-protrai'ttMl  statu  (^f  languor, 
lieatlaclu',  ami  sicknesa,  to  which  tho  Bli;^Hitost  oxposiirt^  to 
rohl  adiloil  sensations  of  iioarsonoss  ami  soronoss  at  tim 
(  luvst,  she  dotorminod  to  tako  tho  ovil  in  tinm,  as  mmdi 
for  her  father  a  sake  as  for  her  own,  ami  U)  ^o  up  to  Lon- 
don and  oonsidt  some  physician  then*.  It  was  not  her 
lirst  inti'iition  to  visit  anywhere  ;  hut  tin*  friendly  nr«^(>ney 
of  iier  publishers  prevailed,  and  it  was  de(!idiMl  that  she 
was  to  become  the  ii;uest  of  Mr.  Smith/    Mefore  she  went 

•  Albiiny  William  Ki)n!)hiiuiiio  (17UM  187*2).  Kdiird  (liti  iCnutiintr 
from  ISIiO.  lU'i'ume  Sliitistieul  Steivlary  U)  llin  Hoard  of  Tiiulo  in 
IS  17.     Wroti'  Entjltihd  umltr  St  irn  AitintnistrttttoitM^  IHH?. 

'  Willimn  Ilowilt  (17U'J  VVri»tit  inmimt^nihlo  wtuks,  of  whieli 

I'isitii  to  Ut'inavkMt'  /Y«i<v^»  (1888  -11)  uiid  llotms  and  Hituntsof  the 
rtfts  (18-17)  iiri^  ht'Ht  rt'iUi'mlK'nil. 

^  She  wmto  to  Mr.  Smith  on  Novombor  ID  us  follovvH;-  - 

'  I  am  sorry  that  you  «liouUl  Imvc  luid  lUc  trmilile  of  wrltln^r  to  mr 
Ht  ti  time  when  businoBs  cbiiiUH  idl  yotir  thou^^hls,  und  doubly  sorry  iim 
I  for  i\w  causr  of  lld^  unwonted  excess  of  oe(  imution  ;  it  is  to  be 
hop«'(l  Mr.  Tiiylor's  beultb  imd  Hlrenf:jtli  will  hcmmi  be  restored  to  biin. 
botli  for  your  salve  and  bis  (uvn 

'I  tlnmk  you  for  yonr  kind  invitation  ;  at  (list  1  tliouf;;bt  I  Hlioiild 
be  uiiilcr  the  necessity  of  dcelinin;::  il.  bavini^  received  a  prior  invitji 
tion  some  months  a^o  from  a  family  lately  come  to  reside  in  liondon, 
whose  aetpiaintanee  I  formed  in  hrussels.  lint  these  friends  only 
know  me  as  Miss  llronlP.  ami  they  are  of  the  class,  perfectly  worthy 
l)Ut  in  no  sort  remarkalile,  to  whom  I  should  feel  it  (piiic  siiperlluoii.'^ 
to  intHHluce  Currer  Hell  ;  I  know  they  would  not  understami  (ht^ 
author.  Under  these  circiunstanees  my  movements  would  Imve  been 
very  much  restrained,  and  ni  fact  this  oonaiileration  forn»ed  a  <linieul- 
ly  in  the  way  of  n»y  comin^^  to  London  at  all.    I  think,  however,  1 


436 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


she  wrote  two  characteristic  letters  about  ^  Shirley/  from 
which  I  shall  take  a  few  extracts. 

^  Shirley  makes  her  way.  The  reviews  shower  in  fast.* 
.  .  .  The  best  critique  which  has  yet  appeared  is  in  the  Re- 
vue des  Deux  Mondes/^  a  sort  of  European  cosmopolitan 
periodical,  whose  headquarters  are  at  Paris.  Comparatively 
few  reviewers,  even  in  their  praise,  evince  a  just  compre- 
hension of  the  author^s  meaning.    Eugene  Forbade/  the 

might  conscientiously  spend  part  of  the  time  with  my  other  friends. 
Finding  me  a  guest  at  the  house  of  a  publisher,  and  knowing  my 
tastes,  they  may  and  probably  will  suspect  me  of  literary  pursuits, 
but  I  care  not  for  that ;  it  would  bring  none  of  the  eclat  and  bustle 
which  an  open  declaration  of  authorship  would  certainly  entail. 

'  As  the  present  does  not  seem  to  be  a  very  favourable  time  for  my 
visit,  I  will  defer  it  awhile.' 

The  *  other  friends '  were  the  Wheelwrights,  Charlotte  having  con- 
tinued the  friendship  formed  in  Brussels  with  Lgetitia.  *  I  found  when 
I  mentioned  to  Mr.  Smith  my  plan  of  going  to  Dr.  Wheelwright's  it 
would  not  do  at  all  ;  he  would  have  been  severely  hurt.  He  made  his 
mother  write  to  me,  and  thus  I  was  persuaded  to  make  my  principal 
stay  at  his  house,'  writes  Charlotte  from  4  Westbourne  Place,  Bishop's 
Road  (this  being  one  of  several  private  houses  which  have  since  that 
day  been  converted  into  shops),  when  staying  with  her  publisher  in 
Loudon.  The  Wheelwrights  lived  at  29  Phillimore  Place,  Kensing- 
ton. 

1  Letter  to  Miss  Ellen  Nussey,  dated  November  22,  1849. 

2  For9ade  had  previously  reviewed  Jane  Eyre  in  an  article  which 
appeared  in  vol.  xxiv..  Series  5,  pp.  470-94.  She  wrote  to  Mr.  Will- 
iams on  November  16,  1848 — 

*  The  notice  in  the  Bevue  des  Deux  Mondes  is  one  of  the  most  able, 
the  most  acceptable  to  the  author  of  any  that  have  yet  appeared.  Eu- 
gene Forbade  understood  and  enjoyed  Jane  Eyre,  I  cannot  say  that 
of  all  who  have  professed  to  criticise  it.  The  censures  are  as  well 
founded  as  the  commendations.  The  specimens  of  the  translation 
given  are  on  the  whole  good  ;  now  and  then  the  meaning  of  the  origi- 
nal has  been  misapprehended,  but  generally  it  is  well  rendered. 

*  Every  cup  given  us  to  taste  in  this  life  is  mixed.  Once  it  would 
have  seemed  to  me  that  an  evidence  of  success  like  that  contained  in 
the  Revue  would  have  excited  an  almost  exultant  feeling  in  my  mind. 
It  comes,  however,  at  a  time  when  counteracting  circumstances  keep 
the  balance  of  the  emotions  even— when  my  sister's  continued  illness 


FORgADE'S  APPRECIATION 


437 


reviewer  in  question,  follows  Currer  Bell  througli  every 
winding,  discerns  every  point,  discriminates  every  shade, 
proves  himself  master  of  the  subject  and  lord  of  the  aim. 
With  that  man  I  would  shake  hands,  if  I  saw  him.  I 
would  say,  You  know  me,  monsieur  ;  I  shall  deem  it 
an  honour  to  know  you.^^  I  could  not  say  so  much  of 
the  mass  of  the  London  critics.  Perhaps  I  could  not  say 
so  much  to  five  hundred  men  and  women  in  all  the  mill- 
ions of  Great  Britain.  That  matters  little.  My  own  con- 
science I  satisfy  first ;  and  having  done  that,  if  I  further 
content  and  delight  a  Forgade,  a  Fonblanque,  and  a 
Thackeray,  my  ambition  has  had  its  ration ;  it  is  fed ;  it 
lies  down  for  the  present  satisfied ;  my  faculties  have 
wrought  a  day's  task  and  earned  a  day's  wages.  I  am 
no  teacher  ;   to  look  on  me  in  that  light  is  to  mistake 

darkens  the  present  and  dims  the  future.  That  will  seem  to  me  a 
happy  day  when  I  can  announce  to  you  that  Emily  is  better.  Her 
symptoms  continue  to  be  those  of  slow  inflammation  of  the  lungs, 
tight  cough,  difficulty  of  breathing,  pain  in  the  chest,  and  fever.  We 
watch  anxiously  for  a  change  for  the  better  ;  may  it  soon  come  !' 

And  on  November  22,  1848,  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Williams — 

*  If  it  is  discouraging  to  an  author  to  see  his  work  mouthed  over  by 
the  entirely  ignorant  and  incompetent,  it  is  equally  reviving  to  hear 
what  you  have  written  discussed  and  analysed  by  a  critic  who  is  mas- 
ter of  his  subject — by  one  whose  heart  feels,  whose  powers  grasp  the 
matter  he  undertakes  to  handle.  Such  refreshment  Eugene  Forbade 
has  given  me.  Were  I  to  see  that  man,  my  impulse  would  be  to  say, 
**  Monsieur,  you  know  me  ;  I  shall  deem  it  an  honour  to  know  you." 

'  I  do  not  find  that  Forgade  detects  any  coarseness  in  the  work— it 
is  for  the  smaller  critics  to  find  that  out.  The  master  in  the  art — the 
subtle-thoughted,  keen-eyed,  quick-feeling  Frenchman  —  knows  the 
true  nature  of  the  ingredients  which  went  to  the  composition  of  the 
creation  he  analyses  ;  he  knows  the  true  nature  of  things,  and  he  gives 
them  their  right  name. 

'  Yours  of  yesterday  has  just  reached  me.  Let  me,  in  the  first  place, 
express  my  sincere  sympathy  with  your  anxiety  on  Mrs.  Williams's 
account.  I  know  how  sad  it  is  when  pain  and  suffering  attack  those 
we  love,  when  that  mournful  guest  sickness  comes  and  takes  a  place 
in  the  household  circle.  That  the  shadow  may  soon  leave  your  home 
is  my  earnest  hope.* 


438 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


me.  To  teach  is  not  my  vocation.  What  I  am  it  is  use- 
less to  say.  Those  whom  it  concerns  feel  and  find  it  out. 
To  all  others  I  wish  only  to  be  an  obscure^  steady-going, 
private  character.  To  you,  dear  Ellen,  I  wish  to  be  a 
sincere  friend.  Give  me  your  faithful  regard  ;  I  willingly 
dispense  with  admiration.^ 

*  November  26. 

'It  is  like  you  to  pronounce  the  reviews  not  good 
enough,  and  belongs  to  that  part  of  your  character  which 
will  not  permit  you  to  bestow  unqualified  approbation 
on  any  dress,  decoration,  &c.,  belonging  to  you.  Know 
that  the  reviews  are  superb  ;  and  were  I  dissatisfied 
with  them  I  should  be  a  conceited  ape.  Nothing  high- 
er is  ever  said,  from  perfectly  disinterested  motives,  of 
any  living  authors.  If  all  be  well  I  go  to  London  this 
week  ;  Wednesday,  I  think.  The  dressmaker  has  done 
my  small  matters  pretty  well,  but  I  wish  you  could  have 
looked  them  over,  and  given  a  dictum.  I  insisted  on  the 
dresses  being  made  quite  plainly/ 

At  the  end  of  November  she  went  up  to  the  ^  big  Baby- 
lon.^* and  was  immediately  plunged  into  what  appeared  to 
her  a  whirl ;  for  changes,  and  scenes,  and  stimulus  which 
would  have  been  a  trifle  to  others  were  much  to  her.  As 
was  always  the  case  with  strangers,  she  was  a  little  afraid 
at  first  of  the  family  into  which  she  was  now  received, 
fancying  that  the  ladies  looked  on  her  with  a  mixture  of 
respect  and  alarm ;  but  in  a  few  days,  if  this  state  of  feel- 
ing ever  existed,  her  simple,  shy,  quiet  manners,  her  dainty 
personal  and  household  ways,  had  quite  done  away  with  it, 
and  she  says  that  she  thinks  they  begin  to  like  her,  and 
that  she  likes  them  much,  for  '  kindness  is  a  potent  heart- 
winner.'  She  had  stipulated  that  she  should  not  be  ex- 
pected to  see  many  people.  The  recluse  life  she  had  led 
was  the  cause  of  a  nervous  shrinking  from  meeting  any 

*  Mr.  George  Smith's  mother  and  sisters  lived  at  the  time  of  tliis 
visit  at  Gloucester  Terrace,  Hyde  Park. 


1^9     FIRST  MEETING  WITH  MR.  THACKERAY  439 


fresh  face,  which  lasted  all  her  life  long.  Still,  she  longed 
to  have  an  idea  of  the  personal  appearance  and  manners  of 
some  of  those  whose  writings  or  letters  had  interested  her. 
Mr.  Thackeray  was  accordingly  invited  to  meet  her,  but  it 
so  happened  that  she  had  been  out  for  the  greater  part  of 
the  morning,  and,  in  consequence,  missed  the  luncheon 
hour  at  her  friend's  house.  This  brought  on  a  severe  and 
depressing  headache  in  one  accustomed  to  the  early,  regu- 
lar hours  of  a  Yorkshire  parsonage  ;  besides,  the  excite- 
ment of  meeting,  hearing,  and  sitting  next  a  man  to  whom 
she  looked  up  with  such  admiration  as  she  did  to  the  author 
of  ^  Vanity  Fair  ^  was  of  itself  overpowering  to  her  frail 
nerves.    She  writes  about  this  dinner  as  follows  : — 

*  December  10,  1849. 
^As  to  being  happy,  I  am  under  scenes  and  circumstances 
of  excitement ;  but  I  suffer  acute  pain  sometimes — mental 
pain,  I  mean.  At  the  moment  Mr.  Thackeray  presented 
himself  I  was  thoroughly  faint  from  inanition,  having  eaten 
nothing  since  a  very  slight  breakfast,  and  it  was  then  seven 
o'clock  in  the  evening.  Excitement  and  exhaustion  made 
savage  work  of  me  that  evening.  What  he  thought  of  me 
I  cannot  tell.' 

She  told  me  how  difficult  she  found  it,  this  first  time  of 
meeting  Mr.  Thackeray,  to  decide  whether  he  was  speaking 
in  jest  or  in  earnest,  and  that  she  had  (she  believed)  com- 
pletely misunderstood  an  inquiry  of  his,  made  on  the 
gentlemen's  coming  into  the  drawing-room.  He  asked  her 
'  if  she  had  perceived  the  scent  of  their  cigars ;'  to  which 
she  replied  literally,  discovering  in  a  minute  afterwards,  by 
the  smile  on  several  faces,  that  he  was  alluding  to  a  pas- 
sage in  '  Jane  Eyre.'  Her  hosts  took  pleasure  in  showing 
her  the  sights  of  London.  On  one  of  the  days  which  had 
been  set  apart  for  some  of  these  pleasant  excursions  a  se- 
vere review  of  ^Shirley 'was  published  in  the  ^ Times.' 
She  had  heard  that  her  book  would  be  noticed  by  it,  and 
guessed  that  there  was  some  particular  reason  for  the  care 


440  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


with  which  her  hosts  mislaid  it  on  that  particular  morning. 
She  told  them  that  she  was  aware  why  she  might  not  see 
the  paper.  Mrs.  Smith  at  once  admitted  that  her  conject- 
ure was  right,  and  said  that  they  had  wished  her  to  go  to 
the  day^s  engagement  before  reading  it.  But  she  quietly 
persisted  in  her  request  to  be  allowed  to  have  the  paper. 
Mrs.  Smith  took  her  work,  and  tried  not  to  observe  the 
countenance  which  the  other  tried  to  hide  between  the 
large  sheets ;  but  she  could  not  help  becoming  aware  of 
tears  stealing  down  the  face  and  dropping  on  the  lap.  The 
first  remark  Miss  Bronte  made  was  to  express  her  fear  lest 
so  severe  a  notice  should  check  the  sale  of  the  book,  and 
injuriously  affect  her  publishers.  Wounded  as  she  was, 
her  first  thought  was  for  others.  Later  on  (I  think  that 
very  afternoon)  Mr.  Thackeray  called;  she  suspected  (she 
said)  that  he  came  to  see  how  she  bore  the  attack  on  '  Shir- 
ley but  she  had  recovered  her  composure,  and  conversed 
very  quietly  with  him :  he  only  learnt  from  the  answer  to 
his  direct  inquiry  that  she  had  read  the  '  Times '  article. 
She  acquiesced  in  the  recognition  of  herself  as  the  author- 
ess of  ^  Jane  Eyre,'  because  she  perceived  that  there  were 
some  advantages  to  be  derived  from  dropping  her  pseudo- 
nym. One  result  was  an  acquaintance  with  Miss  Marti- 
neau.^  She  had  sent  her  the  novel  just  published,  with  a 
curious  note,  in  which  Currer  Bell  offered  a  copy  of  *  Shir- 
ley ^  to  Miss  Martineau,  as  an  acknowledgment  of  the 
gratification  lie  had  received  from  her  works.  From  '  Deer- 
brook  ^  he  had  derived  a  new  and  keen  pleasure,  and  expe- 
rienced a  genuine  benefit.    In  Ms  mind  '  Deerbrook,^  &c. 

Miss  Martineau,  in  acknowledging  this  note  and  the  copy 
of  ^Shirley,'  dated  her  letter  from  a  friend's  house  in  the 

*  Harriet  Martineau  (1802-1876)  was  born  at  Norwich.  She  published 
Deerhrook  in  1839.  Her  Letters  on  the  Laws  of  Man's  Social  Nature, 
published  in  conjunction  with  H.  G.  Atkinson  in  1851,  caused  consid- 
erable scandal  not  only  in  more  orthodox  circles  but  among  Miss  Mar- 
tineau's  old  and  hereditary  friends  the  Unitarians.  Many  years  of  her 
later  life  were  spent  at  Ambleside,  in  the  Lake  Country. 


1849 


VISIT  TO  HARRIET  MARTINEAU 


441 


neighbourhood  of  Mr.  Smith's  residence  ;  and  when,  a  week 
or  two  afterwards.  Miss  Bronte  found  how  near  she  was  to 
her  correspondent,  she  wrote,  in  the  name  of  Currer  Bell,  to 
propose  a  visit  to  her.  Six  o'clock,  on  a  certain  Sunday 
afternoon  (Dec.  10),  was  the  time  appointed.  Miss  Marti- 
neau's  friends  had  invited  the  unknown  Currer  Bell  to  their 
early  tea  ;^  they  were  ignorant  whether  the  name  was  that  of 
a  man  or  a  woman ;  and  had  had  various  conjectures  as  to 
sex,  age,  and  appearance.  Miss  Martineau  had,  indeed, 
expressed  her  private  opinion  pretty  distinctly  by  begin- 
ning her  reply,  to  the  professedly  masculine  note  referred 
to  above,  with  ^  Dear  Madam  but  she  had  addressed  it  to 
Currer  Bell,  Esq.'  At  every  ring  the  eyes  of  the  party 
turned  towards  the  door.  Some  stranger  (a  gentleman,  I 
think)  came  in  ;  for  an  instant  they  fancied  he  was  Currer 
Bell,  and  indeed  an  Esq. ;  he  stayed  sometime — went  away. 
Another  ring  ;  ^Miss  Bronte'  was  announced  ;  and  in  came 
a  young-looking  lady,  almost  childlike  in  stature,  ^in  a 
deep  mourning  dress,  neat  as  a  Quaker's,  with  her  beautiful 
hair  smooth  and  brown,  her  fine  eyes  blazing  with  meaning, 
and  her  sensible  face  indicating  a  habit  of  self-control.'  She 
came,  hesitated  one  moment  at  finding  four  or  five  people 
assembled,  then  went  straight  to  Miss  Martineau  with  in- 
tuitive recognition,  and  with  the  freemasonry  of  good  feel- 
ing and  gentle  breeding  she  soon  became  as  one  of  the  family 
seated  round  the  tea-table  ;  and,  before  she  left,  she  told 
them,  in  a  simple,  touching  manner,  of  her  sorrow  and  iso- 
lation, and  a  foundation  was  laid  for  her  intimacy  with  Miss 
Martineau. 

After  some  discussion  on  the  subject,  and  a  stipulation 
that  she  should  not  be  specially  introduced  to  any  one,  some 
gentlemen  were  invited  by  Mr.  Smith  to  meet  her  at  dinner 
the  evening  before  she  left  town.    Her  natural  place  would 

^  Charlotte  Bronte  writes  to  Ellen  Nussey  (December  10, 1849),  *  This 
evening  I  am  going  to  meet  Miss  Martineau.  She  has  written  tofme 
most  kindly.  She  knows  me  only  as  Currer  Bell.  I  am  going  alone 
in  the  carriage ;  how  I  shall  get  on  I  do  not  know.' 


442 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


have  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  table  by  her  host ;  and  the 
places  of  those  who  were  to  be  her  neighbours  were  arranged 
accordingly  ;  but,  on  entering  the  dining-room,  she  quickly 
passed  up  so  as  to  sit  next  to  the  lady  of  the  house,  anxious 
to  shelter  herself  near  some  one  of  her  own  sex.  This  slight 
action  arose  out  of  the  same  womanly  seeking  after  protec- 
tion on  every  occasion,  when  thcx^e  was  no  moral  duty  in- 
volved in  asserting  her  independence,  that  made  her  about 
this  time  write  as  follows  :  ^Mrs.  Smith^  watches  me  very 
narrowly  when  surrounded  by  strangers.  She  never  takes 
her  eye  from  me.  I  like  the  surveillance ;  it  seems  to  keep 
guard  over  me.' 

Respecting  this  particular  dinner  party  she  thus  wrote  to 
the  Brussels  schoolfellow  of  former  days,^  whose  friendship 
had  been  renewed  during  her  present  visit  to  London : — 

^  The  evening  after  I  left  you  passed  better  than  I  ex- 
pected. Thanks  to  my  substantial  lunch  and  cheering  cup 
of  coffee,  I  was  able  to  await  the  eight  o^clock  dinner  with 
complete  resignation,  and  to  endure  its  length  quite  coura- 
geously, nor  was  I  too  much  exhausted  to  converse  ;  and  of 
this  I  was  glad,  for  otherwise  I  know  my  kind  host  and 
hostess  would  have  been  much  disappointed.  There  were 
only  seven  gentlemen  at  dinner  besides  Mr.  Smith,  but  of 
these  five  were  critics — men  more  dreaded  in  the  world  of 
letters  than  you  can  conceive.  I  did  not  know  how  much 
their  presence  and  conversation  had  excited  me  till  they 
were  gone,  and  the  reaction  commenced.  When  I  had  re- 
tired for  the  night  I  wished  to  sleep — the  effort  to  do  so 
was  vain.  I  could  not  close  my  eyes.  Night  passed  ;  morn- 
ing came,  and  I  rose  without  having  known  a  moment's 
slumber.  So  utterly  worn  out  was  I  when  I  got  to  Derby, 
that  I  was  again  obliged  to  stay  there  all  night.' 


*  Mr.  George  Smith's  mother. 
'  Miss  Laetitia  Wheelwright. 


1S49 


RETURN  TO  HA  WORTH 


443 


*  December  17.^ 

^  Here  I  am  at  Haworth  once  more.  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
come  out  of  an  exciting  whirl.  Not  that  the  hurry  and 
stimulus  would  have  seemed  much  to  one  accustomed  to 
society  and  change,  but  to  me  they  were  very  marked.  My 

^  This  letter  is  to  Mr.  Williams.  There  are  two  of  the  same  date 
(December  17),  one  to  Mr.  George  Smith  and  the  other  to  his  mother : — 

*  December  17,  1849. 
*My  dear  Mrs.  Smith, — I  am  once  again  at  home,  where  I  arrived 

safely  on  Saturday  afternoon,  and,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  found  papa 
quite  well. 

*  It  was  a  fortunate  chance  that  obliged  me  to  stay  at  Derby,  for  by 
the  time  I  had  travelled  so  far  weariness  quite  overpowered  me ;  I 
was  glad  to  go  to  bed  as  soon  as  I  reached  the  inn  ;  an  unbroken  sleep 
refreshed  me  against  the  next  day,  and  I  performed  the  rest  of  the 
journey  with  comparative  ease.  Tell  Miss  Smith  that  her  little  boots 
are  a  perfect  treasure  of  comfort ;  they  kept  my  feet  quite  warm  the 
whole  way. 

'  It  made  me  rather  sad  to  leave  you  ;  regretful  partings  are  the  in- 
evitable penalty  of  pleasant  visits.  I  believe  I  made  no  special  acknowl- 
edgment of  your  kindness  when  I  took  leave,  but  I  thought  you 
very  kind.  I  am  glad  to  have  had  the  opportunity  of  knowing  you, 
and,  whether  I  ever  see  you  again  or  not,  I  must  always  recall  with 
grateful  pleasure  the  fortnight  I  spent  under  your  roof. 

'  Write  a  line  to  me  when  you  have  time,  to  tell  me  how  you  and 
your  daughters  are  ;  remember  me  to  them  all  (including  good,  quiet, 
studious  little  Bell);  accept  for  them  and  yourself  the  assurance  of  my 
true  regard,  and  believe  me,  my  dear  Madam, 

'  Yours  sincerely, 

'  Charlotte  Bronte. 

*  I  enclose  a  note  for  Mr.  Smith  ;  he  must  have  a  word  to  himself. 
*Mrs.  Smith,  4  Westbourne  Place.' 

•  December  17,  1849. 

*  My  dear  Sir, — I  should  not  feel  content  if  I  omitted  writing  to  you 
as  well  as  to  your  mother,  for  I  must  tell  you  as  well  as  her  how  much 
the  pleasure  of  my  late  visit  was  enhanced  by  her  most  considerate  at- 
tention and  goodness.  As  to  yourself,  what  can  I  say  ?  Nothing. 
And  it  is  as  well ;  words  are  not  at  all  needed.  Very  easy  is  it  to  dis- 
cover that  with  you  to  gratify  others  is  to  gratify  yourself ;  to  serve 
others  is  to  afford  yourself  a  pleasure.  I  suppose  you  will  experience 
your  share  of  ingratitude  and  encroachment,  but  do  not  let  them  alter 


444 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


strength  and  spirits  too  often  proved  quite  insufficient  to 
the  demand  on  their  exertions.  I  used  to  bear  up  as  long 
as  I  possibly  could,  for,  when  I  flagged,  I  could  see  Mr. 
Smith  became  disturbed;  he  always  thought  that  some- 
thing had  been  said  or  done  to  annoy  me — which  never  once 
happened,  for  I  met  with  perfect  good  breeding  even  from 
antagonists — men  who  had  done  their  best  or  worst  to  write 
me  down.  I  explained  to  him,  over  and  over  again,  that 
my  occasional  silence  was  only  failure  of  the  power  to  talk, 
never  of  the  will.  .  .  . 

^  Thackeray  is  a  Titan  of  mind.  His  presence  and  powers 
impress  one  deeply  in  an  intellectual  sense ;  I  do  not  see 
him  or  know  him  as  a  man.  All  the  others  are  subordinate. 
I  have  esteem  for  some,  and,  I  trust,  courtesy  for  all.  I 
do  not,  of  course,  know  what  they  thought  of  me,  but  I 
believe  most  of  them  expected  me  to  come  out  in  a  more 
marked,  eccentric,  striking  light.  I  believed  they  desired 
more  to  admire  and  more  to  blame.  I  felt  sufficiently  at 
my  ease  with  all  but  Thackeray ;  with  him  I  was  fearfully 
stupid.^ 

She  returned  to  her  quiet  home  and  her  noiseless  daily 
duties.  I  was  anxious  to  know  from  her  friend  ^Mary^  if, 
in  the  letters  which  Charlotte  wrote  to  her,  she  had  ever 
spoken  with  much  pleasure  of  the  fame  which  she  had 
earned.   To  this  and  some  similar  inquiries  Mary  answers — 

^  She  thought  literary  fame  a  better  introduction  than 
any  other,  and  this  was  what  she  wanted  it  for.  When  at 
last  she  got  it  she  lamented  that  it  was  of  no  use.  "  Her 
solitary  life  had  disqualified  her  for  society.  She  had  be- 
come unready,  nervous,  excitable,  and  either  incapable  of 

you.  Happily,  they  are  the  less  likely  to  do  this  because  you  are  half 
a  Scotchman,  and  therefore  must  have  inherited  a  fair  share  of  pru- 
dence to  qualify  your  generosity,  and  of  caution  to  protect  your  be- 
nevolence.   Currer  Bell  bids  you  farewell  for  tlie  present. 

*C.  B. 

*G.  Smith,  Esq.' 


SIGHTS  OF  LONDON 


445 


speech  or  talked  vapidly.'^  She  wrote  me  this  concerning 
her  late  visits  to  London.  Her  fame,  when  it  came,  seemed 
to  make  no  difference  to  her.  She  was  just  as  solitary, 
and  her  life  as  deficient  in  interest,  as  before.  ^^For 
swarms  of  people  I  don^t  care/^  she  wrote ;  and  then  im- 
plied that  she  had  had  glimpses  of  a  pleasanter  life,  but  she 
had  come  back  to  her  work  at  home.  She  never  criticised 
her  books  to  me,  further  than  to  express  utter  weariness  of 
them,  and  the  labour  they  had  given  her.^ 

Her  father  had  quite  enough  of  the  spirit  of  hero-worship 
in  him  to  make  him  take  a  vivid  pleasure  in  the  accounts 
of  what  slie  had  heard  and  whom  she  had  seen.  It  was  on 
the  occasion  of  one  of  her  visits  to  London  that  he  had  de- 
sired her  to  obtain  a  sight  of  Prince  Albert's  armoury,  if 
possible.  I  am  not  aware  whether  she  managed  to  do  this; 
but  she  went  to  one  or  two  of  the  great  national  armouries 
in  order  that  she  might  describe  the  stern  steel  harness  and 
glittering  swords  to  her  father,  whose  imagination  was 
forcibly  struck  by  the  idea  of  such  things;  and  often  after- 
wards, when  his  spirits  flagged  and  the  languor  of  old  age 
for  a  time  got  the  better  of  his  indomitable  nature,  she 
would  again  strike  on  the  measure  wild,  and  speak  about 
the  armies  of  strange  weapons  she  had  seen  in  London,  till 
he  resumed  his  interest  in  the  old  subject,  and  was  his  own 
keen,  warlike,  intelligent  self  again. 


CHAPTER  XIX 


Her  life  at  Haworth  was  so  unvaried  that  the  postman's 
call  was  the  event  of  her  day.  Yet  she  dreaded  the  great 
temptation  of  centring  all  her  thoughts  upon  this  one  time, 
and  losing  her  interest  in  the  smaller  hopes  and  employ- 
ments of  the  remaining  hours.  Then  she  conscientiously 
denied  herself  the  pleasure  of  writing  letters  too  frequent- 
ly, because  the  answers  (when  she  received  them)  took  the 
flavour  out  of  the  rest  of  her  life ;  or  her  disappointment, 
when  the  replies  did  not  arrive,  lessened  her  energy  for  her 
home  duties. 

The  winter  of  this  year  in  the  North  was  hard  and  cold ; 
it  affected  Miss  Bronte's  health  less  than  usual,  however, 
probably  because  the  change  and  medical  advice  she  had 
taken  in  London  had  done  her  good ;  probably,  also,  be- 
cause her  friend  had  come  to  pay  her  a  visit,  and  enforced 
that  attention  to  bodily  symptoms  which  Miss  Bronte  was 
too  apt  to  neglect,  from  a  fear  of  becoming  nervous  herself 
about  her  own  state,  and  thus  infecting  her  father.  But 
she  could  scarcely  help  feeling  much  depressed  in  spirits  as 
the  anniversary  of  her  sister  Emily's  death  came  round ;  all 
the  recollections  connected  with  it  were  painful,  yet  there 
were  no  outward  events  to  call  off  her  attention,  and  pre- 
yent  them  from  pressing  hard  upon  her.  At  this  time,  as 
^t  many  others,  I  find  her  alluding  in  her  letters  to  the 
^olace  which  she  found  in  the  books  sent  her  from  Cornhill. 

^  What,  I  sometimes  ask,  could  I  do  without  them  ?  I 
have  recourse  to  them  as  to  friends ;  they  shorten  and  cheer 
many  an  hour  that  would  be  too  long  and  too  desolate 
otherwise;  even  when  my  tired  sight  will  not  permit  me  to 
continue  reading,  it  is  pleasant  to  see  them  on  the  shelf  or 


1S49 


ENTHUSIASM  IN  YORKSHIRE 


447 


oil  the  table.  I  am  still  very  rich,  for  my  stock  is  far  from 
exhausted.  Some  other  friends  have  sent  me  books  lately. 
The  perusal  of  Harriet  Martineau's  Eastern  Life''^  has 
afforded  me  great  pleasure ;  and  I  have  found  a  deep  and 
interesting  subject  of  study  in  Newman's  work  on  the 
Soul.'^  Have  you  read  this  work  ?  It  is  daring — it  may 
be  mistaken — but  it  is  pure  and  elevated.  Froude^s  Nem- 
esis of  Faith  "  I  did  not  like ;  I  thought  it  morbid ;  yet  in 
its  pages,  too,  are  found  sprinklings  of  truth. ^ 

By  this  time  ^  Airedale,  Wharfedale,  Calderdale,  and 
.aibblesdale '  all  knew  the  place  of  residence  of  Currer  Bell. 
iWe  compared  herself  to  the  ostrich  hiding  its  head  in  the 
nfrnd,  and  says  that  she  still  buries  hers  in  the  heath  of 
^laworth  moors  ;  but  ^  the  concealment  is  but  self-delusion.^ 

Indeed  it  was.  Far  and  wide  in  the  West  Riding  had 
spread  the  intelligence  that  Currer  Bell  was  no  other  than 
a  daughter  of  the  venerable  clergyman  of  Haworth ;  the 
village  itself  caught  up  the  excitement. 

^  Mr.  ,^  having  finished    Jane  Eyre,^^  is  now  crying 

out  for  the    other  book;^''  he  is  to  have  it  next  week.  .  .  . 

Mr.   has  finished    Shirley  f  he  is  delighted  with  it. 

John   's  wife  seriously  thought  him  gone  wrong  in  the 

head,  as  she  heard  him  giving  vent  to  roars  of  laughter  as 
he  sat  alone,  clapping  and  stamping  on  the  floor.  He  would 
read  all  the  scenes  about  the  curates  aloud  to  papa.^  ^  .  .  . 
'  Martha  came  in  yesterday,  puffing  and  blowing,  and 

^  Harriet  Martineaii's  Eastern  Life  was  published  in  1848,  after  a 
visit  to  Egypt  and  Palestine  ;  Francis  William  Newman  (1805-1897), 
brother  of  Cardinal  Newman,  published  in  1849  The  Soul:  her  Sor- 
rows and  her  Aspirations :  an  Essay  towards  the  Natural  History  of 
the  Soul  as  the  Basis  of  Theology.  James  Anthony  Froude  (1818-1894) 
published  Tfie  Nemesis  of  Faith  in  1849. 

^  These  are  extracts  from  various  letters  to  Ellen  Nussey.  'Mr. 
 '  is  Mr.  Nicholls,  "John  '  is  John  Brown,  the  sexton. 

^  This  passage  concludes,  '  He  (Mr.  Nicholls)  triumphed  in  his  own 
character.    What  Mr.  Grant  will  say  is  another  thing.    No  matter.' 


448 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


much  excited.  Fve  heard  sich  news !"  she  began.  What 
about  "  Please,  ma'am,  you've  been  and  written  two 
books — the  grandest  books  that  ever  was  seen.  My  father 
has  heard  it  at  Halifax,  and  Mr.  G(eorge  Taylor),  and  Mr. 
G(reenwood),  and  Mr.  M(errall)  at  Bradford  ;  and  they  are 
going  to  have  a  meeting  at  Mechanics'  Institute,  and  to 
settle  about  ordering  them."  Hold  your  tongue,  Martha, 
and  be  off."  I  fell  into  a  cold  sweat.  Jane  Eyre  "  will 
be  read  by  J(ohn)  B(rown),  by  Mrs.  T(aylor),  and  B(etty). 
Heaven  help,  keep,  and  deliver  me  I'  .  .  .  ^  The  Haworth 
people  have  been  making  great  fools  of  themselves  aboi^ 
"  Shirley ;"  they  have  taken  it  in  an  enthusiastic  ligl  . 
When  they  got  the  volumes  at  the  Mechanics'  Institute 
the  members  wanted  them.  They  cast  lots  for  the  w  ( 
three,  and  whoever  got  a  volume  was  only  allowed  to  keep 
it  two  days,  and  was  to  be  fined  a  shilling  per  die  ^  * 
longer  detention.  It  would  be  mere  nonsense  and 
to  tell  you  what  they  say/ 

The  tone  of  these  extracts  is  thoroughly  consom 
the  spirit  of  Yorkshire  and  Lancashire  people,  who 
long  as  they  can  to  conceal  their  emotions  of  pleasure 
under  a  bantering  exterior,  almost  as  if  making  fun  of 
themselves.  Miss  Bronte  was  extremely  touched,  in  the 
secret  places  of  her  warm  heart,  by  the  way  in  which  those 
who  had  known  her  from  her  childhood  were  proud  and 
glad  of  her  success.  All  round  about  the  news  had  spread; 
strangers  came  from  beyond  Burnley'  to  see  her,  as  she 
went  quietly  and  unconsciously  into  church ;  and  the  sex- 
ton ^gained  many  a  half  crown'  for  pointing  her  out. 

But  there  were  drawbacks  to  this  hearty  and  kindly  ap- 
preciation which  was  so  much  more  valuable  than  fame. 
The  January  number  of  the  ^  Edinburgh  Review '  had  con- 
tained the  article  on  ^  Shirley '  of  which  her  correspondent, 
Mr.  Lewes,  was  the  writer.  I  have  said  that  Miss  Bronte  was 
especially  anxious  to  be  criticised  as  a  writer,  without  rela- 
tion to  her  sex  as  a  woman.    Whether  right  or  wrong,  her 


1850      MR.  LEWES'S  CRITIQUE  ON  *  SHIRLEY'  449 


feeling  was  strong  on  this  point.  Now,  although  this  review 
of  ^  Shirley '  is  not  disrespectful  towards  women,  yet  the 
headings  of  the  first  two  pages  ran  thus  :  ^Mental  Equality 
of  the  Sexes  ?^  ^Female  Literature^  and  through  the  whole 
article  the  fact  of  the  author's  sex  is  never  forgotten. 

A  few  days  after  the  review  appeared  Mr.  Lewes  re- 
ceived the  following  note — rather  in  the  style  of  Anne, 
Countess  of  Pembroke,  Dorset,  and  Montgomery  : — 

TO  G.  H.  LEWES,  ESQ. 

^  I  can  be  on  my  guard  against  my  enemies,  but  God  de- 
liver me  from  my  friends  !  Currer  Bell.^ 

In  some  explanatory  notes  on  her  letters  to  him,  with 
which  Mr.  Lewes  has  favoured  me,  he  says — 

'Seeing  that  she  was  unreasonable,  because  angry,  I 
wrote  to  remonstrate  with  her  on  quarrelling  with  the 
severity  and  frankness  of  a  review,  which  certainly  was 
dictated  by  real  admiration  and  real  friendship :  even  un- 
der its  objections  the  friend^s  voice  could  be  heard." 

The  following  letter  is  her  reply: — 

TO  G.  H.  LEWES,  ESQ. 

*  January  19,  1850. 

^My  dear  Sir, — I  will  tell  you  why  I  was  so  hurt  by  that 
review  in  the  Edinburgh"' — not  because  its  criticism 
was  keen  or  its  blame  sometimes  severe  ;  not  because  its 
praise  was  stinted  (for,  indeed,  I  think  you  give  me  quite 
as  much  praise  as  I  deserve),  but  because  after  I  had 
said  earnestly  that  I  wished  critics  would  judge  me  as  an 
author,  not  as  a  woman,  you  so  roughly — I  even  thought 
80  cruelly — handled  the  question  of  sex.  I  dare  say  you 
meant  no  harm,  and  perhaps  you  will  not  now  be  able  to 
understand  why  I  was  so  grieved  at  what  you  will  probably 
deem  such  a  trifle ;  but  grieved  I  was,  and  indignant  too. 

'  There  was  a  passage  or  two  which  you  did  quite  wrong 
to  write. 
29 


I 


450  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


^  However,  I  will  not  bear  malice  against  you  for  it ;  I 
know  what  your  nature  is  :  it  is  not  a  bad  or  unkind  one, 
though  you  would  often  jar  terribly  on  some  feelings  with 
whose  recoil  and  quiver  you  could  not  possibly  sympathise. 
I  imagine  you  are  both  enthusiastic  and  implacable,  as  you 
are  at  once  sagacious  and  careless ;  you  know  much  and 
discover  much,  but  you  are  in  such  a  hurry  to  tell  it  all 
you  never  give  yourself  time  to  think  how  your  reckless 
eloquence  may  affect  others  ;  and,  what  is  more,  if  you 
knew  how  it  did  affect  them,  you  would  not  much  care. 

*  However,  I  shake  hands  with  you:  you  have  excellent 
points;  you  can  be  generous.  I  still  feel  angry,  and  think 
I  do  well  to  be  angry  ;  but  it  is  the  anger  one  experiences 
for  rough  play  rather  than  for  foul  play. — I  am  yours,  with 
a  certain  respect,  and  more  chagrin,       Currer  Bell.^ 

As  Mr.  Lewes  says,  Hlie  tone  of  this  letter  is  cavalier.' 
But  I  thank  him  for  having  allowed  me  to  publish  what  is 
so  characteristic  of  one  phase  of  Miss  Bronte's  mind.  Her 
health,  too,  was  suffering  at  this  time.  ^  I  don't  know 
what  heaviness  of  spirit  has  beset  me  of  late '  (she  writes, 
in  pathetic  words,  wrung  out  of  the  sadness  of  her  heart), 
'  made  my  faculties  dull,  made  rest  weariness,  and  occupa- 
tion burdensome.  Now  and  then  the  silence  of  the  house, 
the  solitude  of  the  room,  has  pressed  on  me  with  a  weight 
I  found  it  difficult  to  bear,  and  recollection  has  not  failed 
to  be  as  alert,  poignant,  obtrusive,  as  other  feelings  were 
languid.  I  attribute  this  state  of  things  partly  to  the 
weather.  Quicksilver  invariably  falls  low  in  storms  and 
high  winds,  and  I  have  ere  this  been  warned  of  ap- 
proaching disturbance  in  the  atmosphere  by  a  sense  of 
bodily  weakness,  and  deep,  heavy  mental  sadness,  such 
as  some  would  call  presentiment.  Presentiment  indeed 
it  is,  but  not  at  all  supernatural.  ...  I  cannot  help  feel- 
ing something  of  the  excitement  of  expectation  till  the 
post  hour  comes,  and  when,  day  after  day,  it  brings 
nothing,  I  get  low.    This  is  a  stupid,  disgraceful,  un- 


1850 


DEPRESSION  OF  SPIRITS 


451 


meaning  state  of  things.  I  feel  bitterly  vexed  at  my 
own  dependence  and  folly ;  but  it  is  so  bad  for  the  mind 
to  be  quite  alone,  and  to  have  none  with  whom  to  talk 
over  little  crosses  and  disappointments,  and  to  laugh  them 
away.  If  I  could  write  I  dare  say  I  should  be  better,  but  I 
cannot  write  a  line.  However  (by  God^s  help)  I  will  con- 
tend against  this  folly. 

^  I  had  a  letter  the  other  day  from  Miss  Wooler.  Some 
things  in  it  nettled  me,  especially  an  unnecessarily  earnest 
assurance  that,  in  spite  of"  all  I  had  done  in  the  writing 
line,  I  still  retained  a  place  in  her  esteem.  My  answer 
took  strong  and  high  ground  at  once.  I  said  I  had  been 
troubled  by  no  doubts  on  the  subject ;  that  I  neither  did 
her  nor  myself  the  injustice  to  suppose  there  was  anything 
in  what  I  had  written  to  incur  the  just  forfeiture  of  es- 
teem. ... 

^  A  few  days  since  a  little  incident  happened  which  curi- 
ously touched  me.  Papa  put  into  my  hands  a  little  packet 
of  letters^  and  papers,  telling  me  that  they  were  mammals, 
and  that  I  might  read  them.  I  did  read  them,  in  a  frame 
of  mind  I  cannot  describe.  The  papers  were  yellow  with 
time,  all  having  been  written  before  I  was  born  :  it  was 
strange  now  to  peruse,  for  the  first  time,  the  records  of  a 
mind  whence  my  own  sprang ;  and  most  strange,  and  at 
once  sad  and  sweet,  to  find  that  mind  of  a  truly  fine,  pure, 
and  elevated  order.  They  were  written  to  papa  before  they 
were  married.  There  is  a  rectitude,  a  refinement,  a  con- 
stancy, a  modesty,  a  sense,  a  gentleness  about  them  inde- 
scribable. I  wished  that  she  had  lived,  and  that  1  had 
known  her.  .  .  .  All  through  this  month  of  February  I 
have  had  a  crushing  time  of  it.  I  could  not  escape  from 
or  rise  above  certain  most  mournful  recollections — the  last 
days,  the  sufferings,  the  remembered  words — most  sorrow- 

*  This  little  packet  of  letters,  extracts  from  which  are  printed  by 
Mrs.  Gaskell  (see  p.  42),  is  still  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Nicholls,  who 
kindly  permitted  me  to  print  them  in  full  in  Charlotte  Bronte  and  her 
Circle. 


452 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


ful  to  me,  of  those  who,  Faith  assures  me,  are  now  happy. 
At  evening  and  bedtime  such  thoughts  would  haunt  me, 
bringing  a  weary  headache/ 

The  reader  may  remember  the  strange  prophetic  vision, 
which  dictated  a  few  words,  written  on  the  occasion  of  the 
death  of  a  pupil  of  hers  in  January,  1840  :— 

*  Wherever  I  seek  for  her  now  in  this  world  she  cannot 
be  found,  no  more  than  a  flower  or  a  leaf  which  withered 
twenty  years  ago.  A  bereavement  of  this  kind  gives  one  a 
glimpse  of  the  feeling  those  must  have  who  have  seen  all 
drop  round  them — friend  after  friend — and  are  left  to  end 
their  pilgrimage  alone.  ^ 

Even  in  persons  of  naturally  robust  health,  and  with  no 

ricordarsi  del  tempo  felice 
Nella  miseria 

to  wear,  with  slow  dropping  but  perpetual  pain  upon  their 
spirits,  the  nerves  and  appetite  will  give  way  in  solitude. 
How  much  more  must  it  have  been  so  with  Miss  Bronte, 
delicate  and  frail  in  constitution,  tried  by  much  anxiety 
and  sorrow  in  early  life,  and  now  left  to  face  her  life 
alone!  Owing  to  Mr.  Bronte's  great  age,  and  long-form- 
ed habits  of  solitary  occupation  when  in  the  house,  his 
daughter  was  left  to  herself  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
day.  Ever  since  his  serious  attacks  of  illness  he  had  dined 
alone,  a  portion  of  her  dinner,  regulated  by  strict  attention 
to  the  diet  most  suitable  for  him,  being  taken  into  his  room 
by  herself.  After  dinner  she  read  to  him  for  an  hour  or  so, 
as  his  sight  was  too  weak  to  allow  of  his  reading  long  to 
himself.  He  was  out  of  doors  among  his  parishoners  for  a 
good  part  of  each  day ;  often  for  a  longer  time  than  his 
strength  would  permit.  Yet  he  always  liked  to  go  alone, 
and  consequently  her  affectionate  care  could  be  no  check 
upon  the  length  of  his  walks  to  the  more  distant  hamlets 
which  were  in  his  cure.    He  would  come  back  occasionally 


V 


FACSIMILE  OF  A  LETTER  FROM  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE  TO 

MBS.  SMITH 


'  7  


r 


^    L     4^     ^"^^  ^-A^.<^ 

.-...^  ^  ^^^^ 


4? 


1850 


THACKERAY  AS  A  SATIRIST 


455 


utterly  fatigued^,  and  be  obliged  to  go  to  bed,  questioning 
himself  sadly  as  to  where  all  his  former  strength  of  body 
had  gone  to.  His  strength  of  will  was  the  same  as  ever. 
That  which  he  resolved  to  do  he  did,  at  whatever  cost  of 
weariness  ;  but  his  daughter  was  all  the  more  anxious  from 
seeing  him  so  regardless  of  himself  and  his  health.^ 

^  1  give  here  two  letters,  one  to  Mr.  George  Smith's  mother,  dated 
January  9,  1850,  and  addressed  to  4  Westbourne  Place: — 

'  My  dear  Mrs.  Smith, — Since  you  are  kind  enough  to  answer  my  let- 
ters, you  shall  occasionally  hear  from  me,  but  not  too  often  ;  you  shall 
not  be  "bored  "  (as  Mr.  Thackeray  would  say)  with  too  frequent  a  call 
for  replies. 

'  Speaking  of  Mr.  Thackeray,  you  ask  me  what  I  think  of  his  Christ- 
mas book.  I  think  it  is  like  himself,  and  all  he  says  and  writes;  harsh 
and  kindly,  wayward  and  wise,  benignant  and  bitter;  its  pages  are 
overshadowed  with  cynicism,  and  yet  they  sparkle  with  feeling.  As 
to  his  abuse  of  Rowena  and  of  women  in  general — I  will  tell  you  my 
dear  Madam  what  I  think  he  deserves — first  to  be  arrested,  to  be  kept 
in  prison  for  a  month,  then  to  be  tried  by  a  jury  of  twelve  matrons, 
and  subsequently  to  undergo  any  punishment  they  might  think  proper 
to  inflict ;  and  I  trust  they  would  not  spare  him  ;  for  the  scene  of  Ro- 
wena's  death- bed  alone  he  merits  the  extremest  penalty — the  poor 
woman  is  made  with  her  last  breath  to  prove  that  a  narrow  rankling 
jealousy  was  a  sentiment  more  rooted  in  her  heart  than  either  conju- 
gal or  maternal  love.  It  is  too  bad.  For  that  scene  his  mother  ought 
to  chastise  him. 

*  You  suggest  the  election  of  Mr.  Chorley  as  our  champion  ;  no,  no, 
my  dear  Madam — we  will  not  have  Mr.  Chorley — I  doubt  whether  he 
would  be  true  to  us ;  1  will  tell  you  who  would  better  espouse  and 
defend  our  cause  ;  the  very  man  who  attacks  us;  in  Mr.  Thackeray's 
nature  is  a  good  angel  and  a  bad,  and  I  would  match  the  one  against 
the  other. 

'  Will  you  ask  Mr.  Smith  whether  the  two  volumes  of  Violet  reached 
him  safely  ?  I  returned  them  by  post,  as  I  remembered  he  said  they 
were  borrowed. 

'  Give  my  kind  regards  to  all  your  family  circle,  tell  little  Bell  to  be 
sure  and  not  wear  out  her  eyes  with  too  much  reading,  or  she  will  re- 
pent it  when  she  is  grown  a  woman.  Believe  me,  my  dear  Mrs. 
Smith,  Yours  sincerely, 

'  C.  Bronte. 

'You  demand  a  bulletin  respecting  the  little  socks."  I  am  sorry 
I  cannot  issue  a  more  favourable  one  ;  they  continue  much  the  same. 


454  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


The  hours  of  retiring  for  the  night  had  always  been 
early  in  the  Parsonage ;  now  family  prayers  were  at  eight 
o^clock,  directly  after  which  Mr.  Bronte  and  old  Tabby 
went  to  bed,  and  Martha  was  not  long  in  following.  But 
Charlotte  could  not  have  slept  if  she  had  gone — could  not 
have  rested  on  her  desolate  couch.  She  stopped  up — it  was 
very  tempting — late  and  later ;  striving  to  beguile  the  lonely 
night  with  some  employment,  till  her  weak  eyes  failed  to 

Should  they  ever  be  finished,  you  shall  certainly  have  them  as  a  me- 
mento of  "  Currer  Bell."  ' 

The  second  letter  is  addressed  to  Mr.  George  Smith,  and  is  dated 
January  15 : — 

*I  have  received  the  Morning  Chronicle.  I  like  Mr.  Thackeray's 
letter.  As  you  say,  it  is  manly ;  it  breathes  rectitude  and  indepen- 
dence ;  now  and  then  the  satirist  puts  in  a  word,  but,  on  the  whole,  its 
tone  is  as  earnest  as  its  style  is  simple.  It  needs  a  comparison  between 
Mr.  Thackeray  and  all  the  whining  small  fry  of  quill-drivers  to  take 
the  full  measure  of  his  stature  ;  it  needs  such  a  comparison  as  his 
own  words  suggest  to  discover  what  a  giant  he  is  (morally  I  mean, 
not  physically),  and  with  what  advantage  and  command  he  towers 
above  the  Leigh  Hunts,  the  Levers,  the  Jerrolds. 

'  I  have  likewise  got  Mr.  Doyle's  book  in  its  beautiful  lapis-lazuli 
cover.  All  comment  on  the  circumstance  of  your  sending  a  second 
copy  after  the  first  had  been  lost  would,  1  feel,  be  quite  unavailing.  I 
leave  the  correction  of  such  proceedings  to  the  ''man  of  business'* 
within  you:  on  the  "  close-fisted  "  Head  of  the  Establishment  in  Corn- 
hill  devolves  the  duty  of  reprimanding  Mr.  G  e  S  th  ;  they  may 

settle  accounts  between  themselves,  while  Currer  Bell  looks  on  and 
wonders,  but  keeps  out  of  the  melee. 

'  On  reflection  I  think  it  would  be  wiser  to  abstain  from  adding  any 
more  prefatory  remarks  to  the  cheap  edition  of  Jane  Eyre,  for  it  does 
not  appear  that  I  am  very  happy  in  such  matters ;  I  lack  Mr.  Thack- 
eray's nice  quiet  tact  and  finished  ease.  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  the 
bonnets  suited,  and  regret  exceedingly  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  to 
give  any  assurance  of  the  substantial  existence  of  Miss  Helstone.  You 
must  be  satisfied  if  that  young  person  has  furnished  your  mind  with 
a  pleasant  idea  ;  she  is  a  native  of  Dreamland,  and  as  such  can  have 
neither  voice  nor  presence  except  for  the  fancy,  neither  being  nor 
dwelling  except  in  thought. 

'N.  B. — That  last  sentence  is  not  to  be  read  by  the  ''man  of  busi- 
ness;" it  sounds  much  too  bookish.' 


1850 


VISITORS  TO  HAWORTH 


455 


read  or  sew^  and  could  only  weep  in  solitude  over  the  dead 
that  were  not.  No  one  on  earth  can  even  imagine  what 
those  hours  were  to  her.  All  the  grim  superstitions  of  the 
North  had  been  implanted  in  her  during  her  childhood  by 
the  servants  who  believed  in  them.  They  recurred  to  her 
now — with  no  shrinking  from  the  spirits  of  the  Dead,  but 
with  such  an  intense  longing  once  more  to  stand  face  to 
face  with  the  souls  of  her  sisters  as  no  one  but  she  could 
have  felt.  It  seemed  as  if  the  very  strength  of  her  yearn- 
ing should  have  compelled  them  to  appear.  On  windy 
nights  cries,  and  sobs,  and  wailings  seemed  to  go  round 
the  house,  as  of  the  dearly  beloved  striving  to  force  their 
way  to  her.  Some  one  conversing  with  her  once  objected, 
in  my  presence,  to  that  part  of  ^  Jane  Eyre^  in  which  she 
hears  Rochester's  voice  crying  out  to  her  in  a  great  crisis 
of  her  life,  he  being  many,  many  miles  distant  at  the  time. 
I  do  not  know  what  incident  was  in  Miss  Bronte's  recollec- 
tion when  she  replied,  in  a  low  voice,  drawing  in  her  breath, 
^But  it  is  a  true  thing;  it  really  happened.^ 

The  reader  who  has  even  faintly  pictured  to  himself  her 
life  at  this  time — the  solitary  days — the  waking,  watching 
nights — may  imagine  to  what  a  sensitive  pitch  her  nerves 
were  strung,  and  how  such  a  state  was  sure  to  affect  her 
health. 

It  was  no  bad  thing  for  her  that  about  this  time  various 
people  began  to  go  over  to  Haworth,  curious  to  see  the 
scenery  described  in  '  Shirley,^  if  a  sympathy  with  the 
writer,  of  a  more  generous  kind  than  to  be  called  mere 
curiosity,  did  not  make  them  wish  to  know  whether  they 
could  not  in  some  way  serve  or  cheer  one  who  had  suffered 
so  deeply. 

Among  this  number  were  Sir  James  and  Lady  Kay-Shut- 
tle worth.  ^    Their  house  lies  over  the  crest  of  the  moors 

^  Sir  James  Kay-Shuttle  worth  (1804-1877),  a  doctor  of  medicine, 
who  was  made  a  baronet  in  1849,  on  resigning  the  secretaryship  of  the 
Committee  of  Council  on  Education  ;  assumed  the  name  of  Shuttle- 
worth  on  his  marriage,  in  1842,  to  Janet,  the  only  child  and  heiress  of 


456 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


which  rise  above  Haworth,  at  about  a  dozen  miW  distance 
as  the  crow  flies,  though  much  further  by  the  road.  But, 
according  to  the  acceptation  of  the  word  in  that  uninhabited 

Robert  Shuttleworth  of  Gawthorpe  Hall,  Burnley  (died  1872).  His 
son,  the  present  baronet,  is  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  Ughtred  James  Kay- 
Shuttleworth. 

'Amongst  others,'  writes  Charlotte  Bronte  to  Miss  Nussey  (March 
5,  1850),  '  Sir  J.  K. -Shuttleworth  and  Lady  S.  have  persisted  in  com- 
ing ;  they  were  here  on  Friday.  The  baronet  looks  in  vigorous 
health  ;  he  scarcely  appears  more  than  thirty  -  five,  but  he  says 
he  is  forty-four.  Lady  Shuttleworth  is  rather  handsome,  and  still 
young.  They  were  both  quite  unpretending.  When  here  they  again 
urged  me  to  visit  them.  Papa  took  their  side  at  once — would  not  hear 
of  my  refusing.  I  must  go — this  left  me  without  plea  or  defence.  I 
consented  to  go  for  three  days.  They  wanted  me  to  return  with 
them  in  the  carriage,  but  I  pleaded  off  till  to-morrow.  I  wish  it  was 
well  over.' 


To  Mr.  Williams  Miss  Bronte  writes  (March  16, 1850)--Mrs.  Gaskell 
quotes  a  fragment  of  the  letter  in  the  text : — 

*  I  mentioned,  I  think,  that  we  had  one  or  two  visitors  at  Haworth 
lately  ;  amongst  them  were  Sir  James  Kay-Shuttleworth  and  his  lady. 
Before  departing  they  exacted  a  promise  that  I  would  visit  them  at 
Gawthorpe  Hall,  their  residence  on  the  borders  of  East  Lancashire.  I 
went  reluctantly,  for  it  is  always  a  difficult  and  painful  thing  to  me 
to  meet  the  advances  of  people  whose  kindness  I  am  in  no  position  to 
repay.  Sir  James  is  a  man  of  polished  manners,  with  clear  intellect 
and  highly  cultivated  mind.  On  the  whole  I  got  on  very  well  with 
him.  His  health  is  just  now  somewhat  broken  by  his  severe  official 
labours  ;  and  the  quiet  drives  to  old  ruins  and  old  halls  situate 
amongst  older  hills  and  woods,  the  dialogues  (perhaps  I  should  rather 
say  monologues,  for  I  listened  far  more  than  I  talked)  by  the  fireside 
in  his  antique  oak-panelled  drawing-room,  while  they  suited  him  did 
not  too  much  oppress  and  exhaust  me.  The  house,  too,  is  very  much 
to  my  taste,  near  three  centuries  old,  grey,  stately,  and  picturesque. 
On  the  whole,  now  that  the  visit  is  over,  I  do  not  regret  having  paid 
it.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  there  is  now  some  menace  hanging  over 
my  head  of  an  invitation  to  go  to  them  in  London  during  the  season  ; 
this,  which  would  doubtless  be  a  great  enjoyment  to  some  people,  is  a 
perfect  terror  to  me.  I  should  highly  prize  the  advantages  to  be 
gained  in  an  extended  range  of  observation,  but  I  tremble  at  the 
thought  of  the  price  I  must  necessarily  pay  in  mental  distress  and 


HAWORTH  OLD  HALL. 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 
iNIVERSITY  of  ILLINOIS 


1850 


JARGON  ABOUT  ART 


457 


district,  they  were  neighbours,  if  they  so  willed  it.  Ac- 
cordingly Sir  James  and  his  wife  drove  over  one  morning, 
at  the  beginning  of  March,  to  call  upon  Miss  Bronte  and  her 
father.  Before  taking  leave  they  pressed  her  to  visit  them 
at  Gawthorpe  Hall,  their  residence  on  the  borders  of  East 
Lancashire.  After  some  hesitation,  and  at  the  urgency  of 
her  father,  who  was  extremely  anxious  to  procure  for  her  any 
change  of  scene  and  society  that  was  offered,  she  consented 
to  go.  On  the  whole  she  enjoyed  her  visit  very  much,  in 
spite  of  her  shyness,  and  the  difficulty  she  always  experi- 
enced in  meeting  the  advances  of  those  strangers  whose 
kindness  she  did  not  feel  herself  in  a  position  to  repay. 

She  took  great  pleasure  in  the  ^  quiet  drives  to  old  ruins 
and  old  halls,  situated  among  older  hills  and  woods  ;  the 
dialogues  by  the  old  fireside  in  the  antique  oak-panelled 
drawing-room,  while  they  suited  him,*  did  not  too  much 
oppress  and  exhaust  me.  The  house,  too,  is  much  to  my 
taste ;  near  three  centuries  old,  grey,  stately,  and  pictu- 
resque. On  the  whole,  now  that  the  visit  is  over,  I  do  not 
regret  having  paid  it.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  there  is  now 
some  menace  hanging  over  my  head  of  an  invitation  to  go  to 
them  in  London  during  the  season.  This,  which  would  be 
a  great  enjoyment  to  some  people,  is  a  perfect  terror  to  me. 
I  should  highly  prize  the  advantages  to  be  gained  in  an  ex- 
tended range  of  observation ;  but  I  tremble  at  the  thought 
of  the  price  I  must  necessarily  pay  in  mental  distress  and 
physical  wear  and  tear.^ 

On  the  same  day  on  which  she  wrote  the  above  she  sent 
the  following  letter  to  Mr.  Smith. 

*  March  16,  1850. 

'  I  return  Mr.  H  's  note,  after  reading  it  carefully.  I 

tried  very  hard  to  understand  all  he  says  about  art ;  but,  to 
speak  truth,  my  efforts  were  crowned  with  incomplete  suc- 
cess.   There  is  a  certain  jargon  in  use  amongst  critics  on 

physical  wear  and  tear.    But  you  shall  have  no  more  of  my  confes- 
sions ;  to  you  they  will  appear  folly.' 
*  Sir  James  Kay-Shultleworth. 


458  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


this  point  through  which  it  is  physically  and  morally  im- 
possible to  me  to  see  daylight.  One  thing,  however,  I  see 
plainly  enough,  and  that  is,  Mr.  Currer  Bell  needs  improve- 
ment, and  ought  to  strive  after  it;  and  this  (D.V.)  he 
honestly  intends  to  do — taking  his  time,  however,  and  fol- 
lowing as  his  guides  Nature  and  Truth.  If  these  lead  to 
what  the  critics  call  art,  it  is  all  very  well ;  but  if  not,  that 
grand  desideratum  has  no  chance  of  being  run  after  or 
caught.  The  puzzle  is,  that  while  the  people  of  the  South 
object  to  my  delineation  of  Northern  life  and  manners,  the 
people  of  Yorkshire  and  Lancashire  approve.  They  say  it 
is  precisely  the  contrast  of  rough  nature  with  highly  arti- 
ficial cultivation  which  forms  one  of  their  main  charac- 
teristics. Such,  or  something  very  similar,  has  been  the 
observation  made  to  me  lately,  whilst  I  have  been  from 
home,  by  members  of  some  of  the  ancient  East  Lancashire 
families,  whose  mansions  lie  on  the  hilly  borderland  be- 
tween the  two  counties.  The  question  arises,  whether  do 
the  London  critics,  or  the  old  Northern  squires,  understand 
the  matter  best  ? 

^  Any  promise  you  require  respecting  the  books  shall  be 
willingly  given,  provided  only  I  am  allowed  the  Jesuit's 
principle  of  a  mental  reservation,  giving  license  to  forget  and 
promise  whenever  oblivion  shall  appear  expedient.  The 
last  two  or  three  numbers  of  Pendennis  will  not,  I  dare 
say,  be  generally  thought  sufficiently  exciting,  yet  I  like 
them.  Though  the  story  lingers  (for  me),  the  interest  does 
not  flag.  Here  and  there  we  feel  that  the  pen  has  been 
guided  by  a  tired  hand,  that  the  mind  of  the  writer  has  been 
somewhat  chafed  and  depressed  by  his  recent  illness,  or  by 
some  other  cause ;  but  Thackeray  still  proves  himself  greater 
when  he  is  weary  than  other  writers  are  when  they  are 
fresh.  The  public,  of  course,  will  have  no  compassion  for 
his  fatigue,  and  make  no  allowance  for  the  ebb  of  inspira- 
tion ;  but  some  true-hearted  readers  here  and  there,  while 
grieving  that  such  a  man  should  be  obliged  to  write  when 
he  is  not  in  the  mood,  will  wonder  that,  under  such  circum- 


1850 


WELCOME  BOOKS 


459 


stances^  he  should  write  so  well.  The  parcel  of  books  will 
come,  I  doubt  not,  at  such  time  as  it  shall  suit  the  good 
pleasure  of  the  railway  officials  to  send  it  on — or  rather  to 
yield  it  up  to  the  repeated  and  humble  solicitations  of 
Haworth  carriers — till  when  I  wait  in  all  reasonable  patience 
and  resignation,  looking  with  docility  to  that  model  of  active 
self-helpfulness  Punch friendly  offers  the  Women  of 
England    in  his    Unprotected  Female/' 

The  books  lent  her  by  her  publishers  were,  as  I  have  be- 
fore said,  a  great  solace  and  pleasure  to  her.  There  was 
much  interest  in  opening  the  Cornhill  parcel.  But  there 
was  pain  too  ;  for,  as  she  untied  the  cords,  and  took  out 
the  volumes  one  by  one,  she  could  scarcely  fail  to  be  re- 
minded of  those  who  once,  on  similar  occasions,  looked 
on  so  eagerly.  'I  miss  familiar  voices,  commenting  mirth- 
fully and  pleasantly  ;  the  room  seems  very  still — very  empty. 
But  yet  there  is  consolation  in  remembering  that  papa  will 
take  pleasure  in  some  of  the  books.  Happiness  quite  un- 
shared can  scarcely  be  called  happiness  ;  it  has  no  taste.' 
She  goes  on  to  make  remarks  upon  the  kind  of  books  sent. 

^  I  wonder  how  you  can  choose  so  well ;  on  no  account 
would  I  forestall  the  choice.  I  am  sure  any  selection  I 
might  make  for  myself  would  be  less  satisfactory  than  the 
selection  others  so  kindly  and  judiciously  make  for  me; 
besides,  if  I  knew  all  that  was  coming  it  would  be  com- 
paratively flat.    I  would  much  rather  not  know. 

'Amongst  the  especially  welcome  works  are  Southey's 
Life,'''  the  ''Women  of  France,'"  Hazlitt's  "  Essays,"  Em- 

^  In  Punch,  from  November  3,  1849,  to  April  20,  1850,  there  appeared 
twenty  '  Scenes  from  the  Life  of  an  Unprotected  Female,'  in  dialogue 
and  stage  directions. 

^  The  Life  and  Correspondence  of  the  late  Robert  Southey,  in  six  vol- 
umes, edited  by  his  son  the  Rev.  Charles  Cuthbert  Southey,  was  pub- 
lished by  the  Longmans  in  1849-50. 

*  Women  in  France  during  the  Eighteenth  Century  was  by  Julia  Kav- 
anagh  (1824-1877). 


460  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


erson^s  ^'  Representative  Men  but  it  seems  invidious  to 
particularise  when  all  are  good.  ...  I  took  up  a  second 
small  book,  Scott's  ^^Suggestions  on  Female  Education;"^ 
that,  too,  I  read,  and  with  unalloyed  pleasure.  It  is  very 
good ;  justly  thought,  and  clearly  and  felicitously  ex- 
pressed. The  girls  of  this  generation  have  great  advan- 
tages ;  it  seems  to  me  that  they  receive  much  encourage- 
ment in  the  acquisition  of  know^ledge  and  the  cultivation 
of  their  minds  ;  in  these  days  women  may  be  thoughtful 
and  well  read,  without  being  universally  stigmatised  as 

Blues  "  and  Pedants."  Men  begin  to  approve  and  aid, 
instead  of  ridiculing  or  checking  them  in  their  efforts  to 
be  wise.  I  must  say  that,  for  my  own  part,  whenever  I 
have  been  so  happy  as  to  share  the  conversation  of  a  really 
intellectual  man,  my  feeling  has  been,  not  that  the  little  I 
knew  was  accounted  a  superfluity  and  impertinence,  but 
that  I  did  not  know  enough  to  satisfy  just  expectation.  I 
have  always  to  explain,  In  me  you  must  not  look  for 
great  attainments :  what  seems  to  you  the  result  of  read- 
ing and  study  is  chiefly  spontaneous  and  intuitive.^'  .  .  . 
Against  the  teaching  of  some  (even  clever)  men,  one  in- 
stinctively revolts.  They  may  possess  attainments,  they  may 
boast  varied  knowledge  of  life  and  of  the  world  ;  but  if  of 
the  finer  perceptions,  of  the  more  delicate  phases  of  feel- 
ing, they  may  be  destitute  and  incapable,  of  what  avail  is 
the  rest  ?  Believe  me,  while  hints  well  worth  considera- 
tion may  come  from  unpretending  sources,  from  minds  not 
highly  cultured,  but  naturally  fine  and  delicate,  from  hearts 
kindly,  feeling,  and  unenvious,  learned  dictums  delivered 
with  pomp  and  sound  may  be  perfectly  empty,  stnpid,  and 
contemptible.  No  man  ever  yet  by  aid  of  Greek  climbed 
Parnassus,"  or  taught  others  to  climb  it.  .  .  . 

"^I  enclose  for  your  perusal  a  scrap  of  paper  which  came 
into  my  hands  without  the  knowledge  of  the  writer.  He 

1  Suggestions  on  Female  Education,  by  Alexander  John  Scott  (1805- 
1866),  the  first  Principal  of  Owens  College,  was  published  in  1849. 


1850 


THE  CURATES  OF  *  SHIRLEY' 


461 


is  a  poor  working  man  of  this  village — a  thoughtful,  read- 
ing, feeling  being,  whose  mind  is  too  keen  for  his  frame, 
and  wears  it  out.  I  have  not  spoken  to  him  above  thrice 
in  my  life,  for  he  is  a  Dissenter,  and  has  rarely  come  in  my 
way.  The  document  is  a  sort  of  record  of  his  feelings, 
after  the  perusal  of  Jane  Eyre  it  is  artless  and  earnest, 
genuine  and  generous.  You  must  return  it  to  me,  for  I 
value  it  more  than  testimonies  from  higher  sources.  He 
said  ^^Miss  Bronte,  if  she  knew  he  had  written  it,  would 
scorn  him  but,  indeed,  Miss  Bronte  does  not  scorn  him ; 
she  only  grieves  that  a  mind  of  which  this  is  the  emanation 
should  be  kept  crushed  by  the  leaden  hand  of  poverty — by 
the  trials  of  uncertain  health  and  the  claims  of  a  large  family. 

^As  to  the  Times, as  you  say,  the  acrimony  of  its 
critique  has  proved,  in  some  measure,  its  own  antidote  ;  to 
have  been  more  effective  it  should  have  been  juster.  I 
think  it  has  had  little  weight  up  here  in  the  North  :  it  may 
be  that  annoying  remarks,  if  made,  are  not  suffered  to  reach 
my  ear ;  but  certainly,  while  I  have  heard  little  condemna- 
tory of  Shirley, more  than  once  have  I  been  deeply 
moved  by  manifestations  of  even  enthusiastic  approbation. 
I  deem  it  unwise  to  dwell  much  on  these  matters  ;  but  for 
once  I  must  permit  myself  to  remark,  that  the  generous 
pride  many  of  the  Yorkshire  people  have  taken  in  the  mat- 
ter has  been  such  as  to  awake  and  claim  my  gratitude,  es- 
pecially since  it  has  afforded  a  source  of  reviving  pleasure 
to  my  father  in  his  old  age.  The  very  curates,  poor  fel- 
lows !  show  no  resentment  :  each  characteristically  finds 
solace  for  his  own  wounds  in  crowing  over  his  brethren. 
Mr.  Donne  was,  at  first,  a  little  disturbed  ;  for  a  week  or 
two  he  was  in  disquietude,  but  he  is  now  soothed  down  ; 
only  yesterday  I  had  the  pleasure  of  making  him  a  com- 
fortable cup  of  tea,  and  seeing  him  sip  it  with  revived  com- 
placency.^ It  is  a  curious  fact  that,  since  he  read  Shirley,^' 

*  The  three  curates  of  Shirley  were,  it  will  be  remembered,  Mr. 
Donne,  curate  of  Whinbury  ;  Mr.  Malone,  curate  of  Briarfield  ;  and 


462 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


he  has  come  to  the  house  oftener  than  ever,  and  been  re- 
markably meek,  and  assiduous  to  please.  Some  people^s 
natures  are  veritable  enigmas  :  I  quite  expected  to  have 
had  one  good  scene  at  least  with  him ;  but  as  yet  nothing 
of  the  sort  has  occurred/ 

Mr.  Sweeting,  curate  of  Nunnely.  Mr.  Donne  was  Mr.  Grant  of  Ox- 
enhope  ;  Mr.  Malone  was  Mr.  Smith  of  Hawortli  ;  Mr.  Sweeting  was 
Mr.  Bradley  of  Oakworth.  Mr.  Smith  was  succeeded  in  the  Haworth 
curacy  by  Mr.  A.  B.  Nicholls,  who  is  pleasantly  referred  to  in  Shirley 
as  successor  to  Mr.  Malone. 


CHAPTEK  XX 


DuRii^G  the  earlier  months  of  this  spring  Haworth  was 
extremely  unhealthy.  The  weather  was  damp^  low  fever 
was  prevalent^  and  the  household  at  the  Parsonage  suffered 
along  with  its  neighbours.  Charlotte  says,  ^  I  have  felt  it 
(the  fever)  in  frequent  thirst  and  infrequent  appetite  ;  papa 
too,  and  even  Martha,  have  complained."  This  depression 
of  health  produced  depression  of  spirits,  and  she  grew  more 
and  more  to  dread  the  proposed  journey  to  London  with  Sir 
James  and  Lady  Kay-Shuttleworth.  '  I  know  what  the  ef- 
fect and  what  the  pain  will  be,  how  wretched  I  shall  often 
feel,  and  how  thin  and  haggard  I  shall  get ;  but  he  who 
shuns  suffering  will  never  win  victory.  If  I  mean  to  im- 
prove, I  must  strive  and  endure.  .  .  .  Sir  James  has  been 
a  physician,  and  looks  at  me  with  a  physician's  eye  :  he  saw 
at  once  that  I  could  not  stand  much  fatigue,  nor  bear  the 
presence  of  many  strangers.  I  believe  he  would  partly  un- 
derstand how  soon  my  stock  of  animal  spirits  was  brought 
to  a  low  ebb ;  but  none — not  the  most  skilful  physician — 
can  get  at  more  than  the  outside  of  these  things  :  the  heart 
knows  its  own  bitterness,  and  the  frame  its  own  poverty, 
and  the  mind  its  own  struggles.  Papa  is  eager  and  restless 
for  me  to  go  ;  the  idea  of  a  refusal  quite  hurts  him."^ 

^  On  April  18  she  wrote  to  Mr.  George  Smith — 

*  As  you  say,  the  dividend  business  had  better  be  deferred  till  I 
come  to  London  ;  I  shall  then  have  an  opportunity  of  emulating  Mrs. 
Martha  Struggles  "  by  going  to  the  Bank  for  myself. 

*  You  must  be  kind  enough  to  thank  your  mother  and  sisters  for 
their  friendly  remembrances.  Probably  I  shall  look  forward  to  seeing 
them  with  at  least  as  much  pleasure  as  they  will  anticipate  seeing  me. 


464 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


But  the  sensations  of  illness  in  the  family  increased  ;  the 
symptoms  were  probably  aggravated,  if  not  caused,  by  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  churchyard,  '  paved  with  rain- 
blackened  tombstones/    On  April  29  she  writes — 

^  We  have  had  but  a  poor  week  of  it  at  Haworth.  Papa 
continues  far  from  well ;  he  is  often  very  sickly  in  the 
morning,  a  symptom  which  I  have  remarked  before  in  his 
aggravated  attacks  of  bronchitis;  unless  he  should  get 
much  better  I  shall  never  think  of  leaving  him  to  go  to 
London.  Martha  has  suffered  from  tic-douloureux,  with 
sickness  and  fever,  just  like  you.  I  have  a  bad  cold, 
and  a  stubborn  sore  throat ;  in  short,  everybody  but  old 

Tabby  is  out  of  sorts.   When  was  here  he  complained 

of  a  sudden  headache,  and  the  night  after  he  was  gone 
I  had  something  similar,  very  bad,  lasting  about  three 
hours.' 

A  fortnight  later  she  writes — 

*  I  did  not  think  papa  well  enough  to  be  left,  and  accord- 
ingly begged  Sir  James  and  Lady  Kay-Shuttleworth  to  re- 
turn to  London  without  me.  It  was  arranged  that  we 
were  to  stay  at  several  of  their  friends^  and  relatives^  house 
on  the  way  ;  a  week  or  more  would  have  been  taken  up  on 
the  journey.  I  cannot  say  that  I  regret  having  missed  this 

I  have  but  a  vague  idea  of  the  chances  for  observing  society  my  in- 
tended visit  may  afford,  but  my  imagination  is  very  much  inclined  to 
repose  on  the  few  persons  I  already  know,  as  a  sort  of  oasis  in  the  wil- 
derness. Introduction  to  strangers  is  only  a  trial  ;  it  is  the  meeting 
with  friends  that  gives  pleasure. 

*  On  no  account  should  you  have  dreamed  that  I  was  coming  to 
town  ;  I  confess  with  shame  that  I  have  so  much  superstition  in  my 
nature  as  makes  me  reluctant  to  hear  of  the  fulfilment  of  my  dream, 
however  pleasant ;  if  the  good  dreams  come  true,  so  may  the  bad  ones, 
and  we  have  more  of  the  latter  than  of  the  former. 

*  That  there  are  certain  organisations  liable  to  anticipating  impres- 
sions in  the  form  of  dream  or  presentiment  I  half  believe,  but  that  you, 
a  man  of  business,  have  any  right  to  be  one  of  these  I  wholly  deny. 
"No  prophet  can  come  out  of  Nazareth  "  {i.e.  Cornhill).' 


1850        JOURNEY  TO  LONDON  POSTPONED  465 


ordeal ;  I  would  as  lief  have  walked  among  red-hot  plough- 
shares ;  but  I  do  regret  one  great  treat,  which  I  shall  now 
miss.  Next  Wednesday  is  the  anniversary  dinner  of  the 
Royal  Literary  Fund  Society,  held  in  Freemason's  Hall. 
Octavian  Blewitt,  the  secretary,  offered  me  a  ticket  for  the 
ladies'  gallery.^  I  should  have  seen  all  the  great  literati 
and  artists  gathered  in  the  hall  below,  and  heard  them 
speak  ;  Thackeray  and  Dickens  are  always  present  among 
the  rest.  This  cannot  now  be.  I  don't  think  all  London 
can  afford  another  sight  to  me  so  interesting.' 

It  became  requisite,  however,  before  long,  that  she 
should  go  to  London  on  business  ;  and,  as  Sir  James 
Kay-Shuttleworth  was  detained  in  the  country  by  indispo- 
sition, she  accepted  Mrs.  Smith's  invitation  to  stay  quietly 
at  her  house  while  she  transacted  her  affairs. 

In  the  interval  between  the  relinquishment  of  the  first 
plan  and  the  adoption  of  the  second  she  wrote  the  follow- 
ing letter  to  one  who  was  much  valued  among  her  literary 
friends: ' 

•  May  22. 

^  I  had  thought  to  bring  the  Leader"  and  the  "  Athe- 
naeum" myself  this  time,  and  not  to  have  to  send  them  by 
post,  but  it  turns  out  otherwise ;  my  journey  to  London  is 
again  postponed,  and  this  time  indefinitely.  Sir  James 
Kay-Shuttlewortli's  state  of  health  is  the  cause — a  cause,  I 
fear,  not  likely  to  be  soon  removed.  .  .  .  Once  more,  then, 
I  settle  myself  down  in  the  quietude  of  Haworth  Parsonage, 
with  books  for  my  household  companions  and  an  occasional 
letter  for  a  visitor  ;  a  mute  society,  but  neither  quarrelsome, 
nor  vulgarizing,  nor  unimproving. 

'  One  of  the  pleasures  I  had  promised  myself  consisted  in 
asking  you  several  questions  about  the  "  Leader,"  which  is 
really,  in  its  way,  an  interesting  paper.   I  wanted,  amongst 

^  The  custom  of  admitting  ladies  to  the  gallery  when  the  dinner  is 
over,  in  order  that  they  may  listen  to  the  speeches,  still  obtains  at 
Royal  Literary  Fund  dinners.  ^  ja^ip^es  T^^ylor. 


466 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


other  things,  to  ask  you  the  real  names  of  some  of  the  con- 
tributors, and  also  what  Lewes  writes  besides  his  Appren- 
ticeship of  Life/^  I  always  think  the  article  headed  Lit- 
erature is  his.  Some  of  the  communications  in  the  ^^Open 
Council  department  are  odd  productions  ;  but  it  seems  to 
me  very  fair  and  right  to  admit  them.  Is  not  the  system 
of  the  paper  altogether  a  novel  one  ?  I  do  not  remember 
seeing  anything  precisely  like  it  before. 

have  just  received  yours  of  this  morning ;  thank  you 
for  the  enclosed  note.  The  longings  for  liberty  and  leisure, 
which  May  sunshine  wakens  in  you,  stir  my  sympathy.  I 
am  afraid  Cornhill  is  little  better  than  a  prison  for  its 
inmates  on  warm  spring  or  summer  days.  It  is  a  pity  to 
think  of  you  all  toiling  at  your  desks  in  such  genial  weather 
as  this.  For  my  part,  I  am  free  to  walk  on  the  moors ; 
but  when  I  go  out  there  alone  everything  reminds  me  of  the 
times  when  others  were  with  me,  and  then  the  moors  seem 
a  wilderness,  featureless,  solitary,  saddening.  My  sister 
Emily  had  a  particular  love  for  them,  and  there  is  not  a 
knoll  of  heather,  not  a  branch  of  fern,  not  a  young  bilberry 
leaf,  not  a  fluttering  lark  or  linnet,  but  reminds  me  of  her. 
The  distant  prospects  were  Anne's  delight,  and  when  I  look 
round  she  is  in  the  blue  tints,  the  pale  mists,  the  waves  and 
shadows  of  the  horizon.  In  the  hill-country  silence  their 
poetry  comes  by  lines  and  stanzas  into  my  mind  :  once  I 
loved  it ;  now  I  dare  not  read  it,  and  am  driven  often  to 
wish  I  could  taste  one  draught  of  oblivion,  and  forget  much 
that,  while  mind  remains,  I  never  shall  forget.  Many  peo- 
ple seem  to  recall  their  departed  relatives  with  a  sort  of  mel- 
ancholy complacency,  but  I  think  these  have  not  watched 
them  through  lingering  sickness,  nor  witnessed  their  last 
moments  :  it  is  these  reminiscences  that  stand  by  your  bed- 
side at  night,  and  rise  at  your  pillow  in  the  morning.  At 
the  end  of  all,  however,  exists  the  Great  Hope.  Eternal 
Life  is  theirs  now.' 

She  had  to  write  many  letters^  about  this  time,  to  au- 


1850 


LETTER  TO  A  STRANGER 


467 


tliors  who  sent  her  their  books^  and  strangers  who  expressed 
their  admiration  of  her  own.  The  following  was  in  reply 
to  one  of  the  latter  class,  and  was  addressed  to  a  young 
man  at  Cambridge  : — 

'  May  23,  1850, 

^Apologies  are  indeed  unnecessary  for  a  reality  of  feel- 
ing, for  a  genuine,  unaffected  impulse  of  the  spirit/^  such 
as  prompted  you  to  write  the  letter  which  I  now  briefly  ac- 
knowledge. 

^Certainly  it  is  something  to  me^^  that  what  I  write 
should  be  acceptable  to  the  feeling  heart  and  refined  intel- 
lect ;  undoubtedly  it  is  much  to  me  that  my  creations  (such 
as  they  are)  should  find  harbourage,  appreciation,  indul- 
gence at  any  friendly  hand,  or  from  any  generous  mind. 
You  are  very  welcome  to  take  Jane,  Caroline,  and  Shirley 
for  your  sisters,  and  I  trust  they  will  often  speak  to  their 
adopted  brother  when  he  is  solitary,  and  soothe  him  when 
he  is  sad.  If  they  cannot  make  themselves  at  home  in  a 
thoughtful,  sympathetic  mind,  and  diffuse  through  its  twi- 
light a  cheering  domestic  glow,  it  is  their  fault;  they  are 
not,  in  that  case,  so  amiable,  so  benignant,  not  so  real  as 
they  ought  to  be.  If  they  can,  and  can  find  household 
altars  in  human  hearts,  they  will  fulfil  the  best  design  of 
their  creation  in  therein  maintaining  a  genial  flame,  which 
shall  warm  but  not  scorch,  light  but  not  dazzle. 

^  What  does  it  matter  that  part  of  your  pleasure  in  such 
beings  has  its  source  in  the  poetry  of  your  own  youth  rather 
than  any  magic  of  theirs  ?  What  that  perhaps,  ten  years 
hence,  you  may  smile  to  remember  your  present  recollec- 
tions, and  view  under  another  light  both  ^^Currer  BelP^ 
and  his  writings  ?  To  me  this  consideration  does  not  de- 
tract from  the  value  of  what  you  now  feel.  Youth  has  its 
romance,  and  maturity  its  wisdom,  as  morning  and  spring 
have  their  freshness,  noon  and  summer  their  power,  night 
and  winter  their  repose.  Each  attribute  is  good  in  its  own 
season.  Your  letter  gave  me  pleasure,  and  I  thank  you 
for  it.  OuRRER  Bell.' 


468  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Miss  Bronte  went  up  to  town  at  the  beginning  of  June/ 
and  much  enjoyed  her  stay  there ;  seeing  very  few  per- 
sons, according  to  the  agreement  she  made  before  she 
went;  and  limiting  her  visit  to  a  fortnight,  dreading  the 
feverishness  and  exhaustion  which  were  the  inevitable  con- 
sequences of  the  slightest  excitement  upon  her  susceptible 
frame. 

*  June  12. 

*  Since  I  wrote  to  you  last  I  have  not  had  many  moments 
to  myself,  except  such  as  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to 

^  On  May  25  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Smith,  now  residing  at  76  Gloucester 
Terrace — 

'You  shall  hear  exactly  how  I  am  situated.  Yesterday's  post 
brought  me  a  note  from  Sir  J.  K.-Shuttleworth,  intimating  that  he 
is  something  better,  reminding  me  that  my  visit  is  only  postponed, 
and  requesting  an  assurance  to  the  effect  that  I  will  keep  myself  dis- 
engaged, adding  these  words  :  "  Promise  me  that  your  first  venture 
in  this  oceanic  life  shall  be  with  me."  As  the  note  betrayed  much  of 
that  nervous  anxiety  inseparable  from  his  state  of  health,  I  hastened 
to  give  him  this  promise ;  this,  you  will  perceive,  ties  me  down  for 
the  present. 

*I  consider  it,  however,  very  doubtful  whether  he  will  be  well 
enough  to  render  my  visit  advisable  ;  and  even  should  I  go,  still  my 
conviction  is  tbat  a  brief  stay  will  seem  to  me  the  best.  In  that  case, 
after  a  few  days  with  my  **  fashionable  friends"  as  you  call  them,  I 
believe  I  should  be  excessively  disposed,  and  probably  profoundly 
thankful,  to  subside  into  any  quiet  corner  of  your  drawing-room 
where  I  might  find  a  chair  of  suitable  height. 

*  I  am  sorry  you  have  changed  your  residence,  as  I  shall  now  again 
lose  my  way  in  going  up  and  down  stairs,  and  stand  in  great  tribu- 
lation, contemplating  several  doors  and  not  knowing  which  to  open. 

*  I  regret  that  my  answer  to  your  kind  note  must  be  so  incon- 
clusive ;  the  lapse  of  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks  will  probably  facili- 
tate a  decision.  In  the  meantime,  with  kindest  regards  to  your  fam- 
ily circle  .  .  . 

'  Any  peculant  post-office  clerk  who  shall  mistake  the  contents  of 
this  letter  for  a  bank  note  will  find  himself  in  the  wrong  box.  You 
see  they  are  finished.'* 

*  The  reference  is  to  a  pair  of  baby's  socks  that  Miss  Bronte  had 
knitted. 


1850 


VISIT  TO  LONDON 


469 


give  to  rest.  On  the  whole,  however,  I  have  thus  far  got 
on  very  well,  suffering  much  less  from  exhaustion  than  I 
did  last  time. 

^  Of  course  I  cannot  give  you  in  a  letter  a  regular  chroni- 
cle of  how  my  time  has  been  spent.  I  can  only  just  notify 
what  I  deem  three  of  its  chief  incidents  —  a  sight  of  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  at  the  Chapel  Royal  (he  is  a  real  grand 
old  man),  a  visit  to  the  House  of  Commons  (which  I  hope 
to  describe  to  you  some  day  when  I  see  you),  and  last,  not 
least,  an  interview  with  Mr.  Thackeray.  He  made  me  a 
morning  call,  and  sat  about  two  hours.  Mr.  Smith  only 
was  in  the  room  the  whole  time.  He  described  it  after- 
wards as  a  ^'  queer  scene,^''  and  I  suppose  it  was.  The 
giant  sate  before  me  ;  I  was  moved  to  speak  to  him  of 
some  of  his  shortcomings  (literary  of  course) ;  one  by  one 
the  faults  came  into  my  head,  and  one  by  one  I  brought 
them  out,  and  sought  some  explanation  or  defence.  He 
did  defend  himself  like  a  great  Turk  and  heathen — that  is 
to  say,  the  excuses  were  often  worse  than  the  crime  itself. 
The  matter  ended  in  decent  amity  ;  if  all  be  well  I  am  to 
dine  at  his  house  this  evening. 

^1  have  seen  Lewes  too.*  ...  I  could  not  feel  otherwise 
to  him  than  half  sadly,  half  tenderly — a  queer  word  that 
last,  but  I  use  it  because  the  aspect  of  Lewes^s  face  almost 
moves  me  to  tears  ;  it  is  so  wonderfully  like  Emily  —  her 
eyes,  her  features,  the  very  nose,  the  somewhat  prominent 
mouth,  the  forehead  —  even,  at  moments,  the  expression  ; 
whatever  Lewes  says,  I  believe  I  cannot  hate  him.  An- 
other likeness  I  have  seen,  too,  that  touched  me  sorrow- 
fully.   You  remember  my  speaking  of  a  Miss  Kavanagh,' 

^  The  omitted  passage  runs — '  He  is  a  man  with  both  weaknesses 
and  sins,  but,  unless  I  err  greatly,  the  foundation  of  his  nature  is  not 
bad,  and  were  he  almost  a  fiend  in  character  I  could  not  feel,'  &c. 
(letter  to  Miss  Ellen  Nussey,  dated  June  12,  1850).  Mrs.  Gaskell 
omits  a  line  or  two.  Lewes  described  Charlotte  Bronte  as  *  a  little, 
plain,  provincial ,  sickly-looking,  old  maid '  {Life  of  George  Eliot,  by 
J.  W.  Cross). 

^  Julia  Kavanagh,  who  is  here  compared  with  Martha  Taylor,  was 


470 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


a  young  authoress,  who  supported  her  mother  by  writing? 
Hearing  that  she  had  a  longing  to  see  me,  I  called  on  her 
yesterday.  .  .  .  She  met  me  half  frankly,  half  trembling- 
ly; we  sat  down  together,  and  when  I  had  talked  with  her 
five  minutes  her  face  was  no  longer  strange,  but  mournfully 
familiar — it  was  Martha^  in  every  lineament.  I  shall  try  to 
find  a  moment  to  see  her  again.  ...  I  do  not  intend  to 
stay  here,  at  the  furthest,  more  than  a  week  longer ;  but  at 
the  end  of  that  time  I  cannot  go  home,  for  the  house  at 
Haworth  is  just  now  unroofed  ;  repairs  were  become  neces- 
sary.^ 

That  same  day,  June  12,  she  wrote  Martha  the  follow- 
ing letter.  I  give  these  letters  with  particular  pleasure,  as 
they  show  her  peculiarly  womanly  character ;  and  the  care 
with  which  they  have  been  preserved,  and  the  reverence 
with  which  they  are  looked  upon,  serve  to  give  the  lie  to 
Rochefoucaukrs  celebrated  maxim.  Charlotte  Bronte  was 
a  heroine  to  her  servant  Martha — and  to  those  who  knew 
her  best. 

*  London :  June  15,  1850. 

^  Dear  Martha,  —  I  have  not  forgotten  my  promise  of 
writing  to  you,  though  a  multitude  and  variety  of  engage- 
ments have  hitherto  prevented  me  from  fulfilling  it. 

^It  appears,  from  a  letter  I  received  from  papa  this 
morning,  that  you  are  now  all  in  the  bustle  of  unroofing ; 
and  I  look  with  much  anxiety  on  a  somewhat  cloudy  sky, 
hoping  and  trusting  that  it  will  not  rain  till  all  is  covered  in. 

^  You  and  Martha  Redman  are  to  take  care  not  to  break 
your  backs  with  attempting  to  lift  and  carry  heavy  weights  ; 
also  you  are  not  foolishly  to  run  into  draughts,  go  out  with- 
out caps  or  bonnets,  or  otherwise  take  measures  to  make 
yourselves  ill.  I  am  rather  curious  to  know  how  you  have 
managed  about  a  sleeping-place  for  yourself  and  Tabby. 

an  Irish  writer  who  was  born  at  Thurles,  co.  Tipperary,  in  1824,  and 
died  at  Nice  in  1877.  Madelaine  diwd. Nathalie  were  her  principal  works. 
'  The  friend  of  her  youth,  w^ho  died  at  Brussels  {Note  by  Mrs.  Oaskell). 


1850      LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH  COMPARED  471 


^Yon  must  not  expect  that  I  should  give  yon  any  par- 
ticular description  of  London,  as  that  would  take  up  a  good 
deal  of  time,  and  I  have  only  a  few  minutes  to  spare.  I 
shall  merely  say  that  it  is  a  Babylon  of  a  place^  and  just 
now  particularly  gay  and  noisy,  as  this  is  what  is  called  the 
height  of  the  London  season,  and  all  the  fine  people  are  in 
town.  I  saw  a  good  many  lords  and  ladies  at  the  Opera  a 
few  nights  since,  and,  except  for  their  elegant  dresses,  do  not 
think  them  either  much  better  or  much  worse  than  other 
people. 

'  In  answer  to  this  you  may,  when  you  have  time,  write 
me  a  few  lines,  in  which  you  may  say  how  papa  is,  how  you 
and  Tabby  are,  how  the  house  is  getting  on,  and  how  Mr. 
Nicholls  prospers. 

^With  kind  regards  to  Tabby,  and  Martha  Redman,  I 
am,  dear  Martha,  your  sincere  friend,         C.  Brokte.' 

She  soon  followed  her  letter  to  the  friend  to  whom  it  was 
written  ;  but  her  visit  was  a  very  short  one,  for,  in  accord- 
ance with  a  plan  made  before  leaving  London,  she  went  on 
to  Edinburgh  to  join  the  friends  with  whom  she  had  been 
staying  in  town.  She  remained  only  a  few  days  in  Scot- 
land, and  those  were  principally  spent  in  Edinburgh,  with 
which  she  was  delighted,  calling  London  a  ^dreary  place ^  in 
comparison. 

^My  stay  in  Scotland,^  she  wrote  some  weeks  later,^  ^  was 
short,  and  what  I  saw  was  chiefly  comprised  in  Edinburgh 
and  the  neighbourhood,  in  Abbotsford,  and  in  Melrose,  for 
I  was  obliged  to  relinquish  my  first  intention  of  going  from 
Glasgow  to  Oban,  and  thence  through  a  portion  of  the  High- 
lands ;  but  though  the  time  was  brief,  and  the  view  of  ob- 
jects limited,  I  found  such  a  charm  of  situation,  association, 
and  circumstance,  that  I  think  the  enjoyment  experienced 
in  that  little  space  equalled  in  degree,  and  excelled  in  kind, 

^  To  Miss  Laetitia  Wheelwright.  The  letter  is  dated  Haworth,  July 
30,  1850. 


472 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


all  which  London  yielded  during  a  month's  sojourn.  Edin- 
burgh compared  to  London  is  like  a  vivid  page  of  history 
compared  to  a  large  dull  treatise  on  political  economy  ;  and 
as  to  Melrose  and  Abbotsf  ord,  the  very  names  possess  music 
and  magic/ 

And  again,  in  a  letter  to  a  different  correspondent/  she 
says — 

would  not  write  to  you  immediately  on  my  arrival  at 
home,  because  each  return  to  this  old  house  brings  with  it 
a  phase  of  feeling  which  it  is  better  to  pass  through  quiet- 
ly before  beginning  to  indite  letters.  The  six  weeks  of 
change  and  enjoyment  are  past,  but  they  are  not  lost ; 
memory  took  a  sketch  of  each  as  it  went  by,  and,  especial- 
ly, a  distinct  daguerreotype  of  the  two  days  I  spent  in  Scot- 
land. Those  were  two  very  pleasant  days.  I  always  liked 
Scotland  as  an  idea,  but  now,  as  a  reality,  I  like  it  far  bet- 
ter ;  it  furnished  me  with  some  hours  as  happy  almost  as 
any  I  ever  spent.  Do  not  fear,  however,  that  I  am  going 
to  bore  you  with  description ;  you  will,  before  now,  have 
received  a  pithy  and  pleasant  report  of  all  things,  to  which 
any  addition  of  mine  would  be  superfluous.  My  present 
endeavours  are  directed  towards  recalling  my  thoughts, 
cropping  their  wings,  drilling  them  into  correct  discipline, 
and  forcing  them  to  settle  to  some  useful  work  :  they  are 
idle,  and  keep  taking  the  train  down  to  London,  or  making 
a  foray  over  the  Border — especially  are  they  prone  to  per- 
petrate that  last  excursion ;  and  who,  indeed,  that  has 
once  seen  Edinburgh,  with  its  couchant  crag-lion,  but 
must  see  it  again  in  dreams,  waking  or  sleeping  ?  My 
dear  Sir,  do  not  think  I  blaspheme  when  I  tell  you  that 
your  great  London,  as  compared  to  Dun-Edin,  ^^mine 
own  romantic  town,^^  is  as  prose  compared  to  poetry,  or  as 
a  great  rumbling,  rambling,  heavy  epic  compared  to  a  lyric, 
brief,  bright,  clear,  and  vital  as  a  flash  of  lightning.  You 

» Mr.  W.  Smith  Williams. 


i 


1S50 


RETURN  TO  HAWORTH 


473 


have  nothing  like  Scott's  monument,  or  if  you  had  that, 
and  all  the  glories  of  architecture  assembled  together,  you 
have  nothing  like  Arthur's  Seat,  and  above  all  you  have 
not  the  Scotch  national  character ;  and  it  is  that  grand 
character  after  all  which  gives  the  land  its  true  charm,  its 
true  greatness.' 

On  her  return  from  Scotland  she  again  spent  a  few  days 
with  her  friends,^  and  then  made  her  way  to  Haworth. 

^  At  Brookroyd  with  the  Nusseys.  From  Brookroyd  she  writes  to 
Mr.  George  Smith  on  June  27 — 

'  It  is  written  that  I  should  not  meet  you  at  Tarbet,  and  at  this 
perversity  of  the  Fates  I  should  be  much  more  concerned  than  I  am  if 
I  did  not  feel  very  certain  that  the  loss  in  the  matter  will  be  chiefly  my 
own.  Of  your  three  plans  the  last  is  the  only  one  found  practicable  ; 
Edinburgh  is  the  true  Philippi,  and  there  I  hope  (D.  V.)  to  see  you  again 
next  Wednesday. 

'  I  left  Sarah  much  better,  but  I  think  your  mother  had  decided 
against  her  going  to  Scotland,  thinking  the  journey  too  long. 

'  Before  I  left  London  I  had  the  opportunity  of  bidding  Mr.  Thack- 
eray good-bye  without  going  to  his  house  for  the  purpose,  and  of  this 
1  was  very  glad. 

*My  call  on  Mrs.  and  Miss    proved  ineffectual  as  the  two 

ladies  were  gone  out  of  town  for  the  day,  a  circumstance  keenly  to  be 
regretted,  as  I  thus  lose  the  pleasure  of  communicating  a  few  words 
of  "  latest  intelligence"  where  they  would  be  so  acceptable. 

*  With  kind  regards  to  your  sister,  and  hopes  tliat  she  has  thus  far 
borne  her  journey  well.' 

She  wrote  to  Mrs.  Smith  on  June  28 — 

*I  arrived  here  safely  about  four  o'clock  on  Tuesday  afternoon, 
having  performed  the  journey  with  less  inconvenience  from  headache, 
&c.,  than  I  ever  remember  to  have  experienced  before ;  nor  was  I  ill 
the  next  day. 

'  It  is  now  settled  that  I  may  go  to  Edinburgh,  but  not  to  Tarbet, 
and  I  have  written  to  Mr.  Smith  to  that  effect.  I  only  hope  he  will 
not  be  at  all  disappointed  ;  and  indeed,  as  he  is  now  in  the  full  excite- 
ment of  his  term,  the  change  of  plan  will  probably  appear  of  no  con- 
sequence. 

*  I  could  fill  a  page  or  two  with  acknowledgments  of  your  kindness 
to  me  while  in  London,  but  I  don't  think  you  would  care  to  hear 
much  on  the  subject ;  I  will  only  say  that  I  never  remember  to  have 


474  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


'July  15.1 

got  home  very  well,  and  full  glad  was  I  that  no  in- 
superable obstacle  had  deferred  my  return  one  single  day 
longer.  Just  at  the  foot  of  Bridgehouse  Hill  I  met  John 
(Greenwood),  staff  in  hand;  he  fortunately  saw  me  in  the 
cab,  stopped,  and  informed  me  he  was  setting  off  to  B(rook- 
royd),  by  Mr.  Bronte's  orders,  to  see  how  I  was,  for  that 
he  had  been  quite  miserable  ever  since  he  got  Miss  (Nussey)'s 
letter.  I  found,  on  my  arrival,  that  papa  had  worked  him- 
self up  to  a  sad  pitch  of  nervous  excitement  and  alarm,  in 
which  Martha  and  Tabby  were  but  too  obviously  joining 
him.  .  .  .  The  house  looks  very  clean,  and,  I  think,  is  not 
damp ;  there  is,  however,  still  a  great  deal  to  do  in  the  way 
of  settling  and  arranging,  enough  to  keep  me  disagreeably 
busy  for  some  time  to  come.  I  was  truly  thankful  to  find 
papa  pretty  well,  but  I  fear  he  is  just  beginning  to  show 
symptoms  of  a  cold  :  my  cold  continues  better.  .  .  .  An 
article  in  a  newspaper  I  found  awaiting  me  on  my  arrival 
amused  me  ;  it  was  a  paper  published  while  I  was  in  Lon- 
don. I  enclose  it  to  give  you  a  laugh ;  it  professes  to  be 
written  by  an  author  jealous  of  authoresses.  I  do  not  know 
who  he  is,  but  he  must  be  one  of  those  I  met.^  .  .  .  The 
^'ugly  men,''  giving  themselves  Rochester  airs,"  is  no 
bad  hit ;  some  of  those  alluded  to  will  not  like  it.' 

While  Miss  Bronte  was  staying  in  London  she  was  in- 
duced to  sit  for  her  portrait  to  Richmond.  It  is  a  crayon 
drawing;  in  my  judgment  an  admirable  likeness,  though, 
of  course,  there  is  some  difference  of  opinion  on  the  sub- 
ject; and,  as  usual,  those  best  acquainted  with  the  original 
were  the  least  satisfied  with  the  resemblance.^   Mr.  Bronte 

eDjoyed  myself  more  in  the  same  length  of  time.  With  love  to  Sarah 
and  Bell  believe  me,  my  dear  Mrs.  Smith.'  .  .  . 

1  To  Miss  Ellen  Nussey. 

2  The  omitted  words  are  *  I  saw  Geraldine  Jewsbury  and  Mrs. 
Crowe.' 

^  The  portrait,  which  has  been  reproduced  three  separate  times,  is, 


1850  PORTRAIT  BY  RICHMOND  475 


thought  that  it  looked  older  than  Charlotte  did^  and  that 
her  features  had  not  been  flattered ;  but  he  acknowledged 
that  the  expression  was  wonderfully  good  and  lifelike.^  She 
sent  the  following  amusing  account  of  the  arrival  of  the 
portrait  to  the  donor : — 

as  has  been  said  already,  the  only  extant  likeness  of  Miss  Bronte.  It 
was  engraved  for  the  earlier  editions  of  Mrs.  Gaskell's  Memoir,  pho- 
tographed and  reproduced  in  photogravure  in  Charlotte  Bronte  and 
lier  Circle,  and  sent  over  from  Ireland  for  reproduction  in  the  edition 
of  Jane  Eyre  with  which  this  volume  is  issued.  The  portrait  was  the 
gift  of  Mr.  George  Smith  to  Mr.  Bronte  (see  note,  p.  58).  Other  por- 
traits, including  one  that  was  long  in  the  possession  of  Martha  Brown's 
family,  are  declared  by  Mr.  Nicholls  to  be  copies  of  Richmond's  por- 
trait slightly  altered.  Patrick  Bronte's  portrait  of  his  sister  was  de- 
stroyed, and  the  Bradford  artist-friends  of  Bran  well  had  left  the 
neighbourhood  before  Charlotte  became  sufficiently  famous  to  make 
a  portrait  desirable. 
^  She  wrote  to  Mr.  George  Smith  on  July  27— 

*  Papa  will  write  and  thank  you  himself  for  the  portrait  when  it 
arrives.    As  for  me,  you  know,  a  standing  interdict  seals  my  lips. 

'  You  thought  inaccurately  about  the  copy  of  the  picture  as  far  as 
my  feelings  are  concerned,  and  yet  you  judged  rightly  on  the  whole ; 
for  it  is  my  intention  that  the  original  drawing  shall  one  day  return 
to  your  hands.  As  the  production  of  a  true  artist  it  will  always  have 
a  certain  worth,  independently  of  subject. 

*  I  owe  you  two  debts  :  I  did  not  pay  for  my  cards,  nor  for  the 
power  of  attorney.  Let  me  request  you  to  be  at  once  good  and  just, 
and  tell  me  to  what  these  little  items  amounted. 

'Were  you  still  in  Glencoe,  or  even  in  Edinburgh,  I  might  write 
you  a  longer  and  more  discursive  letter,  but,  mindful  of  the  "fitness  of 
things,"  and  of  the  effect  of  locality,  reverent  too  of  the  claims  of  busi- 
ness, I  will  detain  your  attention  no  longer. 

'  Tell  your  sister  Eliza  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  that  she  has  derived 
so  much  benefit  from  her  excursion  ;  remember  me  very  kindly  to  her 
your  mother,  and  the  rest  of  your  circle.' 

The  letter  that  Mr.  Bronte  himself  wrote  in  acknowledgment  of 
Mr.  Smith's  gifts  is  fittingly  given  here. 

*  Ha  worth,  near  Keighley  : 

'  August  2,  1850. 

*My  dear  Sir, —The  two  portraits  have,  at  length,  safely  arrived, 
and  have  been  as  safely  hung  up,  in  the  best  light  and  most  favour- 


i 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


'  August  1. 

^The  little  box  for  me  came  at  the  same  time  as  the 
large  one  for  papa.  When  you  first  told  me  that  you  had 
had  the  Duke^s  picture  framed,  and  had  given  it  to  me,  I 
felt  half  provoked  with  you  for  performing  such  a  work  of 
supererogation,  but  now,  when  I  see  it  again,  I  cannot  but 
acknowledge  that,  in  so  doing,  you  were  felicitously  in- 
spired. It  is  his  very  image,  and,  as  papa  said  when  he 
saw  it,  scarcely  in  the  least  like  the  ordinary  portraits ;  not 
only  the  expression,  but  even  the  form  of  the  head  is  dif- 
^  ferent,  and  of  a  far  nobler  character.  I  esteem  it  a  treas- 
ure.   The  lady  who  left  the  parcel  for  me  was,  it  seems, 

able  positiou.  Without  flattery  the  artist,  in  the  portrait  of  my 
daughter,  has  fully  proved  that  the  fame  which  he  has  acquired  has 
been  fairly  earned.  Without  ostentatious  display,  with  admirable 
tact  and  delicacy,  he  has  produced  a  correct  likeness,  and  succeeded 
in  a  graphic  representation  of  mind  as  well  as  matter,  and  with  only 
black  and  white  has  given  prominence  and  seeming  life,  and  speech, 
and  motion.  I  may  be  partial,  and  perhaps  somewhat  enthusiastic,  in 
this  case,  but  in  looking  on  the  picture,  which  improves  upon  acquaint- 
ance, as  all  real  works  of  art  do,  I  fancy  I  see  strong  indications  of  the 
genius  of  the  author  of  Shirley  and  Jane  Eyre. 

'  The  portrait  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  of  all  which  I  have  seen 
comes  the  nearest  to  my  preconceived  idea  of  that  great  man,  to  whom 
Europe,  and  the  other  portions  of  the  civilised  world,  in  the  most 
dangerous  crisis  of  their  affairs,  entrusted  their  cause,  and  in  whom, 
under  Providence,  they  did  not  trust  in  vain.  It  now  remains  for  me 
only  to  thank  you,  which  I  do  most  sincerely.  For  the  sake  of  the 
giver  as  well  as  the  gift  I  will  lay  the  portraits  up  for  life  amongst  my 
most  highly  valued  treasures,  and  have  only  to  regret  that  some  are 
missing  who,  with  better  taste  and  skill  than  I  have,  would  have  fully 
partaken  of  my  joy. 

*  I  beg  leave  to  remain,  with  much  respect, 

•  My  dear  Sir, 

'  Yours  faithfully, 

*P.  Bronte. 

'G.  Smith,  Esq.,  65  Cornhill,  London.' 

*  Please  to  give  my  kindest  and  most  respectful  regards  to  Mr.  Will- 
iams, whom  I  have  often  heard  of  but  never  seen,  and  to  Mr.  Taylor, 
whom  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  when  he  ventured  into  this  wild 
region.' 


1S50 


MOMENTS  OF  ANXIETY 


477 


Mrs.  Gore.^  The  parcel  contained  one  of  her  works,  ^'^The 
Hamiltons/''  and  a  very  civil  and  friendly  note,  in  which  I 
find  myself  addressed  as  Dear  Jane/^  Papa  seems  much 
pleased  with  the  portrait,  as  do  the  few  other  persons  who 
have  seen  it,  with  one  notable  exception,  viz.  our  old  ser- 
vant, who  tenaciously  maintains  that  it  is  not  like — that 
it  is  too  old-looking — but,  as  she,  with  equal  tenacity,  as- 
serts that  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  picture  is  a  portrait  of 
^^the  Master''  (meaning  papa),  I  am  afraid  not  much 
weight  is  to  be  ascribed  to  her  opinion  ;  doubtless  she  con- 
fuses her  recollections  of  me  as  I  was  in  childhood  with 
present  impressions.  Requesting  always  to  be  very  kindly 
remembered  to  your  mother  and  sisters,  1  am  yours  very 
thanklessly  (according  to  desire),  C.  Brokte." 

It  may  easily  be  conceived  that  two  people  living  to- 
gether as  Mr.  Bronte  and  his  daughter  did,  almost  entirely 
dependent  on  each  other  for  society,  and  loving  each  other 
deeply  (although  not  demonstratively) — that  these  two  last 
members  of  a  family  would  have  their  moments  of  keen 
anxiety  respecting  each  other's  health.  There  is  not  one 
letter  of  hers  which  I  have  read  that  does  not  contain 
some  mention  of  her  father's  state  in  this  respect.  Either 
she  thanks  God  with  simple  earnestness  that  he  is  well,  or 
some  infirmities  of  age  beset  him,  and  she  mentions  the 
fact,  and  then  winces  away  from  it,  as  from  a  sore  that  will 
not  bear  to  be  touched.  He,  in  his  turn,  noted  every  in- 
disposition of  his  one  remaining  child,  exaggerated  its  nat- 
ure, and  sometimes  worked  himself  up  into  a  miserable 
state  of  anxiety,  as  in  the  case  she  refers  to,  when,  her 
friend  having  named  in  a  letter  to  him  that  his  daughter 
was  suffering  from  a  bad  cold,  he  could  not  rest  till  he 
despatched  a  messenger,  to  go,  '  staff  in  hand,'  a  distance 

^  Catherine  Grace  Frances  Moody,  Mrs.  Gore  (1799-1861),  wrote  about 
seventy  books  ;  TJie  Hamiltons^  or  the  New  Ei^a,  j^ublished  in  1834,  be- 
ing her  sixteenth. 


478 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


of  fourteen  miles,  and  see  with  his  own  eyes  what  was  her 
real  state,  and  return  and  report. 

She  evidently  felt  that  this  natural  anxiety  on  the  part 
of  her  father  and  friend  increased  the  nervous  depression 
of  her  own  spirits  whenever  she  was  ill ;  and  in  the  fol- 
lowing letter  she  expresses  her  strong  wish  that  the  sub- 
ject of  her  health  should  be  as  little  alluded  to  as  possi- 
ble:^— 

*  There  is  a  letter  to  Mr.  George  Smith,  dated  August  5 : — 

*  My  dear  Sir, — You  are  rather  formidable  in  your  last  note,  and  yet 
your  menace  has  for  me  little  terror.  The  charge  is  drawn  from  your 
two  barrels  by  this  fact:  I  do  not  thank  you  in  ignorance,  nor  in 
puerile  misconception,  nor  on  hollow  grounds.  Do  not  fear  that  I 
suppose  the  benefit  to  be  all  on  my  side.  Rest  assured  I  regard  these 
matters  from  a  less  unpractical  point  of  view  than  you  perhaps  imagine. 
Though  women  are  not  taught  the  minutiae  and  the  mysteries  of  busi- 
ness, yet  in  the  course  of  observation  they  manage  to  gather  up  some 
general  idea  of  the  leading  principles  on  which  it  is  conducted,  and,  if 
you  reflect,  it  would  betray  a  redundancy  of  vanity,  as  well  as  a  lack 
of  common  sense,  in  any  individual  who  should  imagine  that,  in  car- 
rying out  those  principles,  an  exception  has  been  made  in  her  fa- 
vour. 

'  Apart,  however,  from  considerations  of  business  there  are  others 
such  as  cannot  indeed  be  entered  in  a  ledger,  nor  calculated  by  rules 
of  arithmetic,  but  of  which,  nevertheless,  we  all  keep  a  record,  and 
to  which,  according  to  our  cast  of  mind,  and  also  our  cast  of  circum- 
stances, we  ascribe  a  greater  or  less  value.  The  manner  of  doing  a 
kind,  or,  if  you  will,  merely  a  just  action,  the  degree  of  pleasure  that 
manner  imparts,  the  amount  of  happiness  derived  from  a  given  source 
— these  things  cannot  indeed  be  handled,  paid  away  and  bartered  for 
material  possessions,  as  many  can,  but  they  colour  our  thoughts  and 
leaven  our  feelings,  just  as  the  sunshine  of  a  warm  day  or  the  im- 
pressions of  delight  left  by  fine  scenery  might  do.  We  may  owe  as 
deep  a  debt  for  golden  moments  as  can  ever  be  incurred  for  golden 
coin. 

'This  will  be  read  in  Cornhill,  and  will  not  sound  practical,  but 
yet  it  is  practical ;  I  believe  it  to  be  a  sober  theory  enough. 

*I  enclose  a  post-office  order  for  1^.  11^.  M.,  and  beg  to  subscribe 
myself  yours,  &c. (is  not  this  an  unobjectionable  form?),  C.  Bronte. 

*P.S. — The  peculating  post-oflice  clerk,  evidently  holding  a  pub- 
lisher's principles  respecting  the  value  of  poetry,  has  not  paid  Words- 


1850 


LETTER  TO  HER  PUBLISHER 


479 


*  August  7. 

^  I  am  truly  sorry  that  I  allowed  the  words  to  which  you 
refer  to  escape  my  lips^  since  their  effect  on  you  has  been 
unpleasant;  but  try  to  chase  every  shadow  of  anxiety  from 
your  mind,  and,  unless  the  restraint  be  very  disagreeable  to 
you,  permit  me  to  add  an  earnest  request  that  you  will 
broach  the  subject  to  me  no  more.  It  is  the  undisguised 
and  most  harassing  anxiety  of  others  that  has  fixed  in  my 
mind  thoughts  and  expectations  which  must  canker  wher- 
ever they  take  root ;  against  which  every  effort  of  religion 
or  philosophy  must  at  times  totally  fail ;  and  subjugation 
to  which  is  a  cruel,  terrible  fate — the  fate,  indeed,  of  him 
whose  life  was  passed  under  a  sword  suspended  by  a  horse- 
hair. I  have  had  to  entreat  papa^s  consideration  on  this 
point.  My  nervous  system  is  soon  wrought  on.  I  should 
wish  to  keep  it  in  rational  strength  and  coolness  ;  but  to  do 
so  I  must  determinedly  resist  the  kindly  meant  but  too 
irksome  expression  of  an  apprehension  for  the  realisation 
or  defeat  of  which  I  have  no  possible  power  to  be  responsi- 
ble. At  present  I  am  pretty  well.  Thank  God,  papa,  I 
trust,  is  no  worse,  but  he  complains  of  weakness.^ 

worth's  book  the  compliment  of  detaining  it ;  it  arrived  safely  and 
promptly. 

'  May  I  tell  you  how  your  mourning  reveries  respecting  Glencoe  and 
Loch  Katrine  will  probably  end?  The  thought  has  just  come  into  my 
head  and  must  be  written  down.  Some  day — you  will  be  emn  later 
tJianusual  in  making  your  appearance  at  breakfast  — your  anxious 
mother,  on  going  up  to  make  enquiries,  will  find  you  deep  in  unde- 
niable inspiration,  on  the  point  of  completing  the  12th  canto  of  ''The 
Highlands :  a  Grand  Descriptive,  Romantic,  and  Sentimental  POEM, 
by  George  Smith,  Esq/* ' 


CHAPTER  XXI 


Her  father  was  always  anxious  to  procure  every  change 
that  was  possible  for  her,  seeing,  as  he  did,  the  benefit 
which  she  derived  from  it,  however  reluctant  she  might 
have  been  to  leave  her  home  and  him  beforehand.  This 
August  she  was  invited  to  go  for  a  week  to  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Bowness,  where  Sir  James  Kay-Shuttleworth  had 
taken  a  house  ;  but  she  says,  '  I  consented  to  go,  with  re- 
luctance, chiefly  to  please  papa,  whom  a  refusal  on  my 
part  would  much  have  annoyed  ;  but  I  dislike  to  leave 
him.  I  trust  he  is  not  worse,  but  his  complaint  is  still 
weakness.  It  is  not  right  to  anticipate  evil,  and  to  be  al- 
ways looking  forward  with  an  apprehensive  spirit ;  but  I 
think  grief  is  a  two-edged  sword,  it  cuts  both  ways ;  the 
memory  of  one  loss  is  the  anticipation  of  another.^ 

It  was  during  this  visit  at  the  Briery — Lady  Kay-Shut- 
tleworth having  kindly  invited  me  to  meet  her  there — that 
I  first  made  acquaintance  with  Miss  Bronte.*    If  I  copy 

*  There  are  two  or  three  earlier  references  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  in  Miss 
Bronte's  correspondence.  The  first  is  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Smith  AVill- 
iams,  dated  November  20,  1849  ;  the  second  in  a  letter  to  the  same 
correspondent,  dated  November  29  in  the  same  year  (see  Introduction, 
p.  xxiv). 

On  January  1,  1850,  Miss  Bronte  wrote  to  Mr.  Williams — 

*  May  I  beg  that  a  copy  of  Wuthering  Heights  may  be  sent  to  Mrs. 
Gaskell  ?  Her  present  address  is  3  Sussex  Place,  Regent's  Park. 
She  has  just  sent  me  the  Moorland  Cottage.  1  felt  disappointed  about 
the  publication  of  that  book,  having  hoped  it  would  be  offered  to 
Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.  ;  but  it  seems  she  had  no  alternative,  as  it  was 
Mr.  Chapman  himself  who  asked  her  to  write  a  Christmas  book.' 

In  a  letter  to  her  father,  dated  August  10,  1850,  from  the  Briery, 
Windermere,  Charlotte  Bronte  says — 
'  Sir  James  came  to  meet  me  at  the  station  ;  both  he  and  Lady  Shut- 


ISoO 


AT  THE  BRIERY 


481 


out  part  of  a  letter  which  I  wrote  soon  after  this  to  a 
friend,  who  was  deeply  interested  in  her  writings,  I  shall 
probably  convey  my  first  impressions  more  truly  and  fresh- 
ly than  by  amplifying  what  I  then  said  into  a  longer  de- 
scription. 

^  Dark  when  I  got  to  Windermere  station  ;  a  drive  along 
the  level  road  to  Low-wood  ;  then  a  stoppage  at  a  pretty 
house,  and  then  a  pretty  drawing-room,  in  which  were  Sir 
James  and  Lady  Kay-Shuttle  worth,  and  a  little  lady  in  a 
black  silk  gown,  whom  I  could  not  see  at  first  for  the  daz- 
zle in  the  room ;  she  came  up  and  shook  hands  with  me  at 
once.  I  went  up  to  unbonnet,  &c.  ;  came  down  to  tea. 
The  little  lady  worked  away  and  hardly  spoke,  but  I  had 
time  for  a  good  look  at  her.  She  is  (as  she  calls  herself) 
iDideveloped,  thin,  and  more  than  half  a  head  shorter  than 
I  am  ;  soft  brown  hair,  not  very  dark  ;  eyes  (very  good  and 
expressive,  looking  straight  and  open  at  you)  of  the  same 
colour  as  her  hair  ;  a  large  mouth  ;  the  forehead  square, 
broad,  and  rather  overhanging.  She  has  a  very  sweet 
voice  ;  rather  hesitates  in  choosing  her  expressions,  but 
when  chosen  they  seem  without  an  effort  admirable,  and 
just  befitting  the  occasion  ;  there  is  nothing  overstrained, 
but  perfectly  simple.  .  .  .  After  breakfast  we  four  went 
out  on  the  lake,  and  Miss  Bronte  agreed  with  me  in  liking 
Mr.  Newman'^s  Soul,^'  and  in  liking  Modern  Painters,"" 
and  the  idea  of  the  Seven  Lamps;"  and  she  told  me 
about  Father  Newman's  lectures  at  the  Oratory  in  a  very 

quiet,  concise,  graphic  way.  .  .  .  She  is  more  like  Miss  

than  any  one  in  her  ways — if  you  can  fancy  Miss  to 

have  gone  through  suffering  enough  to  have  taken  out 
every  spark  of  merriment,  and  to  be  shy  and  silent  from 
the  habit  of  extreme,  intense  solitude.    Such  a  life  as  Miss 

tleworth  gave  me  a  very  kind  reception.    This  place  is  exquisitely 
beautiful,  though  the  weather  is  cloudy,  misty,  and  stormy  ;  but  the 
sun  bursts  out  occasionally  and  shows  the  hills  and  the  lake.  Mrs. 
Gaskell  is  coming  here  this  evening,  and  one  or  two  other  people.' 
31 


482 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Bronte's  I  have  never  heard  of  before.   described  her 

home  to  me  as  in  a  village  of  grey  stone  houses,  perched  up 
on  the  north  side  of  a  bleak  moor,  looking  over  sweeps  of 
bleak  moors,  &c.  &c. 

^  We  were  only  three  days  together,  the  greater  part  of 
which  was  spent  in  driving  about,  in  order  to  show  Miss 
Bronte  the  Westmoreland  scenery,  as  she  had  never  been 
there  before.  We  were  both  included  in  an  invitation  to 
drink  tea  quietly  at  Fox  How ;  and  then  I  saw  how  severe- 
ly her  nerves  were  taxed  by  the  effort  of  going  amongst 
strangers.  We  knew  beforehand  that  the  number  of  the 
party  would  not  exceed  twelve  ;  but  she  suffered  the  whole 
day  from  an  acute  headache  brought  on  by  apprehension  of 
the  evening. 

^  Briery  Close  was  situated  high  above  Low-wood,  and  of 
course  commanded  an  extensive  view  and  wide  horizon.  I 
was  struck  by  Miss  Bronte's  careful  examination  of  the 
shape  of  the  clouds  and  the  signs  of  the  heavens,  in  which 
she  read,  as  from  a  book,  what  the  coming  weather  would 
be.  I  told  her  that  I  saw  she  must  have  a  view  equal  in 
extent  at  her  own  home.  She  said  that  I  was  right,  but 
that  the  character  of  the  prospect  from  Haworth  was  very 
different ;  that  I  had  no  idea  what  a  companion  the  sky 
became  to  any  one  living  in  solitude — more  than  any  in- 
animate object  on  earth  —  more  than  the  moors  them- 
selves.' 

The  following  extracts^  convey  some  of  her  own  impres- 
sions and  feelings  respecting  this  visit : — 

^You  said  I  should  stay  longer  than  a  week  in  West- 
moreland ;  you  ought  by  this  time  to  know  me  better.  Is  it 
my  habit  to  keep  dawdling  at  a  place,  long  after  the  time  I 
first  fixed  on  for  departing  ?  I  have  got  home,  and  I  am 
thankful  to  say  papa  seems — to  say  the  least — no  worse 
than  when  I  left  him,  yet  I  wish  he  were  stronger.  My 


*  From  a  letter  to  Ellen  Nusse}^  dated  Haworth,  August  26, 1850o 


1850 


AT  THE  BRIERY 


483 


visit  passed  off  very  well ;  I  am  very  glad  I  went.  The 
scenery  is,  of  course,  grand ;  could  I  have  wandered  about 
amongst  those  hills  alojie,  I  could  have  drunk  in  all  their 
beauty ;  even  in  a  carriage  with  company  it  was  very  well. 
Sir  James  was  all  the  while  as  kind  and  friendly  as  he 
could  be  ;  he  is  in  much  better  health.^  .  .  .  Miss  Martineau 
was  from  home  ;  she  always  leaves  her  house  at  Ambleside 
during  the  Lake  season,  to  avoid  the  influx  of  visitors  to 
which  she  would  otherwise  be  subject. 

^  If  I  could  only  have  dropped  unseen  out  of  the  car- 
riage, and  gone  away  by  myself  in  amongst  those  grand 
hills  and  sweet  dales,  I  should  have  drunk  in  the  full  power 
of  this  glorious  scenery.  In  company  this  can  hardly  be. 
Sometimes,  while  Sir  James  Kay-Shuttleworth  was  warn- 
ing me  against  the  faults  of  the  artist  class,  all  the  while 
vagrant  artist  instincts  were  busy  in  the  mind  of  his  lis- 
tener. 

^  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that,  about  a  week  before  I  went  to 
Westmoreland,  there  came  an  invitation  to  Harden  Grange^ 
(Mr.  Busfield  Ferrand's  place^),  ^  which,  of  course,  I  de- 
clined. Two  or  three  days  after  a  large  party  made  their 
appearance  here,  consisting  of  Mrs.  F (errand)  and  sundry 
other  ladies  and  two  gentlemen ;  one  tall  and  stately,  black- 
haired  and  whiskered,  who  turned  out  to  be  Lord  John 
Manners;  the  other  not  so  distinguished-looking,  shy,  and 
a  little  queer,  who  was  Mr.  Smythe,  the  son  of  Lord 
Strangford.    I  found  Mrs.  F(errand)  a  true  lady  in  man- 

^  The  following  passage  is  in  the  original  letter :  *  Lady  Shuttle- 
worth  never  got  out,  being  confined  to  the  house  with  a  cold  ;  but 
fortunately  there  was  Mrs.  Gaskell,  the  authoress  of  Mary  Barton^ 
who  came  to  the  Briery  the  day  after  me.  I  was  truly  glad  of  her 
companionship.  She  is  a  woman  of  the  most  genuine  talent,  of 
cheerful,  pleasing,  and  cordial  manners,  and,  I  believe,  of  a  kind  and 
good  heart.' 

^  Mr.  Ferrand  was  a  considerable  landowner,  whose  '  place,'  Harden 
Grange,  is  four  miles  from  Haworth.  He  died  in  1889.  His  wife  was 
the  second  daughter  of  the  eleventh  Lord  Blantyre.  Mrs.  Ferrand 
died  in  1896. 


I 


484  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


ners  and  appearance '  (she  is  the  sister  or  daughter,  I  for- 
get which,  of  Lord  Blantyre),  *  very  gentle  and  unassum- 
ing. Lord  John  Manners  brought  in  his  hand  a  brace  of 
grouse  for  papa,  which  was  a  well-timed  present  :  a  day  or 
two  before  papa  had  been  wishing  for  some/ 

To  these  extracts  I  must  add  one  other  from  a  letter  re- 
ferring to  this  time.  It  is  addressed  to  Miss  Wooler,  the 
kind  friend  of  both  her  girlhood  and  womanhood,  who  had 
invited  her  to  spend  a  fortnight  with  her  at  her  cottage 
lodgings. 

'  Haworth  :  September  27, 1850. 

^  When  I  tell  you  that  I  have  already  been  to  the  Lakes 
this  season,  and  that  it  is  scarcely  more  than  a  month  since 
I  returned,  you  will  understand  that  it  is  no  longer  within 
my  option  to  accept  your  kind  invitation.  I  wish  I  could 
have  gone  to  you.  I  have  already  had  my  excursion,  and 
there  is  an  end  to  it.  Sir  James  Kay-Shuttle  worth  is  resid- 
ing near  Windermere,  at  a  house  called  the  Briery,"  and 
it  was  there  I  was  staying  for  a  little  time  this  August.  He 
very  kindly  showed  me  the  neighbourhood,  as  it  can  he  seen 
from  a  carriage,  and  I  discerned  that  the  Lake  country  is  a 
glorious  region,  of  which  I  had  only  seen  the  similitude  in 
dreams,  waking  or  sleeping.  Decidedly  I  find  it  does  not 
agree  with  me  to  prosecute  the  search  of  the  picturesque 
in  a  carriage.  A  wagon,  a  spring-cart,  even  a  post-chaise 
might  do ;  but  the  carriage  upsets  everything.  I  longed  to 
slip  out  unseen,  and  to  run  away  by  myself  in  amongst  the 
hills  and  dales.  Erratic  and  vagrant  instincts  tormented 
me,  and  these  I  was  obliged  to  control,  or  rather  suppress, 
for  fear  of  growing  in  any  degree  enthusiastic,  and  thus  draw- 
ing attention  to  the  ^ lioness" — the  authoress. 

^  You  say  that  you  suspect  I  have  formed  a  large  circle 
of  acquaintances  by  this  time.  No :  I  cannot  say  that  I 
have.  I  doubt  whether  I  possess  either  the  wish  or  the 
power  to  do  so.  A  few  friends  I  should  like  to  have,  and 
those  few  I  should  like  to  know  well ;  if  such  knowledge 


1850      HER  FIRST  LETTER  TO  THE  AUTHOR  485 


brought  proportionate  regard,  I  could  not  help  concentrat- 
ing my  feelings  ;  dissipation,  I  think,  appears  synonymous 
with  dilution.  However  I  have,  as  yet,  scarcely  been  tried. 
During  the  month  I  spent  in  London  in  the  spring  I  kept 
very  quiet,  having  the  fear  of  lionising  before  my  eyes.  I 
only  went  out  once  to  dinner,  and  once  was  present  at  an 
evening  party ;  and  the  only  visits  I  have  paid  have  been  to 
Sir  James  Kay-Shuttleworth's  and  my  publisher's.  From 
this  system  I  should  not  like  to  depart ;  as  far  as  I  can  see, 
indiscriminate  visiting  tends  only  to  a  waste  of  time  and  a 
vulgarising  of  character.  Besides,  it  would  be  wrong  to 
leave  papa  often ;  he  is  now  in  his  seventy-fifth  year ;  the 
infirmities  of  age  begin  to  creep  upon  him  ;  during  the  sum- 
mer he  has  been  much  harassed  by  chronic  bronchitis,  but 
I  am  thankful  to  say  that  he  is  now  somewhat  better.  I 
think  my  own  health  has  derived  benefit  from  change  to 
exercise. 

'  Somebody  in  Dewsbury  professes  to  have  authority  for 
saying  that  ^^when  Miss  Bronte  was  in  London  she  neg- 
lected to  attend  Divine  service  on  the  Sabbath,  and  in  the 
week  spent  her  time  in  going  about  to  balls,  theatres,  and 
operas. On  the  other  hand,  the  London  quidnuncs  make 
my  seclusion  a  matter  of  wonder,  and  devise  twenty  ro- 
mantic fictions  to  account  for  it.  Formerly  I  used  to  listen 
to  report  with  interest,  and  a  certain  credulity,  but  I  am 
now  grown  deaf  and  sceptical :  experience  has  taught  me 
how  absolutely  devoid  of  foundation  her  stories  may  be.^ 

I  must  now  quote  from  the  first  letter  I  had  the  privilege 
of  receiving  from  Miss  Bronte.    It  is  dated  August  27. 

^Papa  and  I  have  just  had  tea  ;  he  is  sitting  quietly  in 
his  room,  and  I  in  mine  ;  storms  of  rain are  sweeping 
over  the  garden  and  churchyard  :  as  to  the  moors,  they  are 
hidden  in  thick  fog.  Though  alone  I  am  not  unhappy  ;  I 
have  a  thousand  things  to  be  thankful  for,  and,  amongst 
the  rest,  that  this  morning  I  received  a  letter  from  you, 
and  that  this  evening  I  have  the  privilege  of  answering  it. 


486 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


do  not  know  the  ^^Life  of  Sydney  Taylor  '  whenever 
I  have  the  opportunity  I  will  get  it.  The  little  French 
book  you  mention  shall  also  take  its  place  on  the  list  of 
books  to  be  procured  as  soon  as  possible.  It  treats  a  sub- 
ject interesting  to  all  women  —  perhaps  more  especially  to 
single  women,  though,  indeed,  mothers,  like  you,  study  it 
for  the  sake  of  their  daughters.  The  ^^Westminster  Re- 
view'^ is  not  a  periodical  I  see  regularly,  but  some  time 
since  I  got  hold  of  a  number — for  last  January,  I  think — 
in  which  there  was  an  article  entitled  Woman's  Mission 
(the  phrase  is  hackneyed),  containing  a  great  deal  that 
seemed  to  me  just  and  sensible.  Men  begin  to  regard  the 
position  of  woman  in  another  light  than  they  used  to  do ; 
and  a  few  men,  whose  sympathies  are  fine  and  whose  sense 
of  justice  is  strong,  think  and  speak  of  it  with  a  candour 
that  commands  my  admiration.  They  say,  however — and, 
to  an  extent,  truly — that  the  amelioration  of  our  condition 
depends  on  ourselves.  Certainly  there  are  evils  which  our 
own  efforts  will  best  reach ;  but  as  certainly  there  are  other 
evils — deep-rooted  in  the  foundations  of  the  social  system 
— which  no  efforts  of  ours  can  touch ;  of  which  we  can- 
not complain ;  of  which  it  is  advisable  not  too  often  to 
think. 

^  I  have  read  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam,''^  or  rather  part 
of  it ;  I  closed  the  book  when  I  had  got  about  halfway.  It 
is  beautiful ;  it  is  mournful  ;  it  is  monotonous.  Many  of 
the  feelings  expressed  bear,  in  their  utterance,  the  stamp 
of  truth  ;  yet,  if  Arthur  Hallam  had  been  somewhat  nearer 
Alfred  Tennyson — his  brother  instead  of  his  friend  —  I 
should  have  distrusted  this  rhymed,  and  measured,  and 
printed  monument  of  grief.  What  change  the  lapse  of 
years  may  work  I  do  not  know ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that 
bitter  sorrow,  while  recent,  does  not  flow  out  in  verse. 

^  Selections  from  the  Writings  of  J.  Sydney  Taylor y  with  a  Brief 
Sketch  of  his  Life.  London,  1843.  John  Sydney  Taylor  (1795-1841) 
was  a  London  journalist  of  Irish  origin. 

2  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam  was  published  in  1850. 


1850        A  LETTER  TO  A  LITERARY  FRIEND  487 


promised  to  send  you  Wordsworth's  Prelude/'^  and, 
accordingly,  despatch  it  by  this  post ;  the  other  little  vol- 
ume shall  follow  in  a  day  or  two.  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear 
from  you  whenever  you  have  time  to  write  to  me,  iut  you 
are  never  on  any  account  to  do  this  except  wlien  inclination 
promj^ts  and  leisure  permits.  I  should  never  thank  you  for 
a  letter  which  you  had  felt  it  a  task  to  write/ 

A  short  time  after  we  had  met  at  the  Briery  she  sent  me 
the  volume  of  Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton  BelFs  poems,  and 
thus  alludes  to  them  in  the  note  that  accompanied  the 
parcel : — 

^  The  little  book  of  rhymes  was  sent  by  way  of  fulfilling  a 
rashly  made  promise ;  and  the  promise  was  made  to  prevent 
you  from  throwing  away  four  shillings  in  an  injudicious  pur- 
chase. I  do  not  like  my  own  share  of  the  work,  nor  care 
that  it  should  be  read  :  Ellis  BelFs  I  think  good  and  vigor- 
ous, and  Acton's  have  the  merit  of  truth  and  simplicity. 
Mine  are  chiefly  juvenile  productions,  the  restless  efferves- 
cence of  a  mind  that  would  not  be  still.  In  those  days  the 
sea  too  often  "  wrought  and  was  tempestuous,"  and  weed, 
sand,  shingle — all  turned  up  in  the  tumult.  This  image  is 
much  too  magniloquent  for  the  subject,  but  you  will  par- 
don it.' 

Another  letter  of  some  interest  was  addressed,  about  this 
time,  to  a  literary  friend,^  on  September  5. 

'The  reappearance  of  the  Athenaeum"  is  very  accept- 
able, not  merely  for  its  own  sake — though  I  esteem  the  op- 
portunity of  its  perusal  a  privilege — but  because,  as  a  week- 
ly token  of  the  remembrance  of  friends,  it  cheers  and  gives 

^  Tlie  Prelude  ;  or.  Growth  of  a  Poet's  Mind :  an  Autohiograpliical 
Poem,  by  William  Wordsworth,  was  published,  after  his  death  in  1850, 
by  Edward  Moxon,  Dover  Street,  London. 

^  Mr.  James  Taylor. 


488 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


pleasure.  I  only  fear  that  its  regular  transmission  may  be- 
come a  task  to  you  ;  in  this  case,  discontinue  it  at  once. 

did  indeed  enjoy  my  trip  to  Scotland,  and  yet  I  saw  little 
of  the  face  of  the  country ;  nothing  of  its  grander  or  finer 
scenic  features ;  but  Edinburgh,  Melrose,  Abbotsford — these 
three  in  themselves  sufficed  to  stir  feelings  of  such  deep  in- 
terest and  admiration  that  neither  at  the  time  did  I  regret, 
nor  have  I  since  regretted,  the  want  of  wider  space  over 
which  to  diffuse  the  sense  of  enjoyment.  There  was  room 
and  variety  enough  to  be  very  happy,  and  enough,"  the 
proverb  says,  is  as  good  as  a  feast."  The  Queen,  indeed, 
was  right  to  climb  Arthur^s  Seat  with  her  husband  and 
children.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  how  I  felt  when,  having 
reached  its  summit,  we  all  sat  down  and  looked  over  the 
city,  towards  the  sea  and  Leith,  and  the  Pentland  Hills. 
No  doubt  you  are  proud  of  being  a  native  of  Scotland — 
proud  of  your  country,  her  capital,  her  children,  and  her 
literature.    You  cannot  be  blamed. 

'  The  article  in  the  Palladium  "  ^  is  one  of  those  notices 
over  which  an  author  rejoices  trembling.  He  rejoices  to 
find  his  work  finely,  fully,  fervently  appreciated,  and  trem- 
bles under  the  responsibility  such  appreciation  seems  to 
devolve  upon  him.  I  am  counselled  to  wait  and  watch — 
D. V.  I  will  do  so ;  yet  it  is  harder  to  wait  with  the  hands 
bound,  and  the  observant  and  reflective  faculties  at  their 
silent  and  unseen  work,  than  to  labour  mechanically. 

^  This  article  was  by  Sydney  Thompson  Dobell  (1824-1874),  poet 
and  critic,  whose  review  of  Currer  Bell  was  afterwards  republished  in 
his  Life  and  Letters,  vol.  i.  pp.  163-86  (1878).  The  article  contains  a 
brilliant  appreciation  of  Wuthering  Heights.  In  a  letter  to  Dr.  Samuel 
Brown,  Sydney  Dobell  writes,  '  Of  larger  calibre  and  metal  more  "  tried 
in  the  fire  "  is  Currer  Bell.  You  would  have  been  charmed  with  a  let- 
ter of  hers  which  her  friend  Miss  Martineau  sent  me  the  other  day.  A 
noble  letter,  simple  and  strong  ;  but  tender  all  over  with  amenities 
that  showed  like  ripples  on  a  wave.  I  was  amused  with  her  playful 
suspicion  that  '*  if  Mr.  Dobell  could  see  her,  sometimes  darning  a  stock- 
ing, or  making  a  pie  in  the  kitchen  of  an  old  parsonage  in  the  ob- 
scurest of  Yorkshire  villages,  he  might  recall  his  sentence." — A  fig 
for  Mr.  D.'s  discernment,  if  he  did  not  confirm  it — with  costs.' 


1850 


CRITICAL  NOTICES 


489 


^1  need  not  say  how  I  felt  the  remarks  on  Wuthering 
Heights they  woke  the  saddest  yet  most  grateful  feel- 
ings ;  they  are  true,  they  are  discriminating,  they  are  full 
of  late  justice,  but  it  is  very  late — alas  !  in  one  sense,  too 
late.  Of  this,  however,  and  of  the  pang  of  regret  for  a  light 
prematurely  extinguished,  it  is  not  wise  to  speak  much. 
Whoever  the  author  of  this  article  may  be,  I  remain  his 
debtor. 

^Yet  you  see,  even  here,  Shirley'^  is  disparaged  in 
comparison  with  Jane  Eyre  and  yet  I  took  great  pains 
with  Shirley.  I  did  not  hurry;  I  tried  to  do  my  best, 
and  my  own  impression  was  that  it  was  not  inferior  to  the 
former  work ;  indeed,  I  had  bestowed  on  it  more  time, 
thought,  and  anxiety  :  but  great  part  of  it  was  written 
under  the  shadow  of  impending  calamity ;  and  the  last 
volume,  I  cannot  deny,  was  composed  in  the  eager,  rest- 
less endeavour  to  combat  mental  sufferings  which  were 
scarcely  tolerable. 

^  You  sent  the  tragedy  of  Galileo  Galilei,"  by  Samuel 
Brown,^  in  one  of  the  Oornhill  parcels  ;  it  contained,  I  re- 
member, passages  of  very  great  beauty.  Whenever  you 
send  any  more  books  (but  that  must  not  be  till  I  return 
what  I  now  have)  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  include 
amongst  them  the  ^^Life  of  Dr.  Arnold."  Do  you  know 
also  the  Life  of  Sydney  Taylor"?  I  am  not  familiar 
even  with  the  name,  but  it  has  been  recommended  to  me 
as  a  work  meriting  perusal.  Of  course,  when  I  name  any 
book,  it  is  always  understood  that  it  should  be  quite  con- 
venient to  send  it.^ 

^  Samuel  Brown  (1817-1856)  was  a  cousin  of  Dr.  John  Brown,  author 
of  Bab  and  his  Friends,  He  was  a  chemist  and  wrote  Lectures  on  the 
Atomic  Theory  and  Essays  Scientific  and  Literary.  His  tragedy  Galileo 
Galilei  was  published  in  1850. 
'Miss  Bronte  wrote  to  Mr.  George  Smith  on  September  18,  1850 — 
'Feeling  sure  that  any  application  of  mine  to  Mr.  Newby  would 
merely  result  in  some  evasive  reply,  I  have  adopted  your  second  sug- 
gestion and  written  the  statement  enclosed.  I  felt  more  than  reluctant 


490  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


to  give  you  any  trouble  about  the  matter,  but  your  note  presents  the 
case  in  a  manner  which  seems  to  do  away  with  much  of  its  intricacy 
and  difficulty  ;  in  your  hands,  therefore,  I  leave  it. 

*  If  you  should  extract  any  money  from  Mr.  Newby  (of  which  I  am 
not  sanguine),  I  shall  regard  it  in  the  light  of  a  providential  windfall 
and  dispose  of  part  of  it — at  least — accordingly  ;  one  half  of  what- 
ever you  may  realise  must  be  retained  in  your  possession  to  add  to  any 
sum  you  may  decide  on  giving  Miss  Kavanagh  for  her  next  work. 
This,  however,  is  a  presumptuous  enumeration  of  chickens  ere  the 
eggs  are  hatched. 

*  Mr.  Thackeray  did  very  right  to  bring  his  Christmas  book  to  you  ; 
I  hope  it  will  be  a  good  one,  better  (that  is,  juster  and  more  amiable) 
than  Rebecca  and  Rowena  ;  if  otherwise  I  can  only  wish  that  whenever 
he  goes  to  the  Elysian  Fields  (long  may  it  be  ere  then  !)  he  may  be 
immediately  caught  by  his  own  Rowena  (not  Sir  Walter  Scott's)  and 
compelled  by  her  into  a  conjugal  union.  That  would  be  '''poetical 
justice I  think. 

*  Mr.  Ruskin's  fairy  tale^  will  no  doubt  offer  a  delicate  contrast  to 
the  Christmas  book — something  like  a  flower  and  a  branch  of  oak. 
Mrs.  Gaskell,  it  seems,  has  likewise  written  a  Christmas  book.  I  won- 
der by  whom  it  is  to  be  published  ;  I  half  expected  from  some  things 
that  were  said  when  I  saw  her  that  you  would  have  had  the  first  offer 
of  her  next  work. 

'You  should  be  very  thankful  that  books  cannot  **talk  to  each 
other  as  well  as  to  their  reader."  Conceive  the  state  of  your  ware- 
house if  such  were  the  case.  The  confusion  of  tongues  at  Babel,  or  a 
congregation  of  Irvingites  in  full  exercise  of  their  miraculous  gift, 
would  offer  but  a  feeble  type  of  it.  Terrible,  too,  would  be  the  quar- 
relling. Yourself  and  Mr.  Taylor  and  Mr.  Williams  would  all  have 
to  go  in  several  times  in  the  day  to  part  or  silence  the  disputants. 
Dr.  Knox  alone,  with  bis  Race :  a  Fi^agment  (a  book  which  I  read 
with  combined  interest,  amusement,  and  edification),  would  deliver 
the  voice  of  a  Stentor  if  any  other  book  ventured  to  call  in  question 
his  favourite  dogmas. 

'  Still  I  like  the  notion  of  a  mystic  whispering  amongst  the  lettered 
leaves,  and  perhaps  at  night,  when  London  is  asleep  and  Cornhill 
desert,  when  all  your  clerks  and  men  are  away,  and  the  warehouse  is 
shut  up,  such  a  whispering  may  be  heard — by  those  who  have  ears  to 
hear. 

*  I  find,  on  referring  again  to  Mr.  Newby's  letter  to  my  sister,  he 


*  The  King  of  the  Golden  River.  By  John  Ruskin.  Smith,  Elder, 
&Co.,  1851. 


1850 


LITERARY  JUDGMENTS 


491 


says  that  the  sale  of  250  copies  of  WutJiering  Heights  would  "  leave  a 
surplus  of  100^.  to  be  divided.'*  * 
And  a  little  later  she  wrote— 

*  WutJiering  Heights  and  Agnes  Orey  were  published  by  Mr.  Newby 
on  the  condition  that  my  sister  should  share  the  risk.  Accordingly 
they  advanced  50^.,  Mr.  Newby  engaging  to  repay  it  as  soon  as  the 
work  should  have  sold  a  sufficient  number  of  copies  to  defray  expen- 
ses ;  and  Mr.  Newby  mentions  in  his  letter  to  my  sister  on  the  sub- 
ject that  "  the  sale  of  250  copies  would  leave  a  surplus  of  100^.  to  be 
divided."  No  portion  of  the  sum  advanced  has  yet  been  returned, 
and,  as  it  appears  that  the  work  is  now  entirely  out  of  print,  I  should 
feel  greatly  obliged  if  you  would  call  upon  Mr.  Newby  and  enquire 
whether  it  be  convenient  to  him  to  refund  the  amount  received. 

'  For  The  Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall  my  sister  Anne  was  to  receive  25^. 
on  the  day  of  publication,  a  second  25^.  on  the  sale  reaching  250 
copies,  50^.  more  on  its  extending  to  400  copies,  and  another  50^.  on 
500  being  sold. 

'Two  instalments  of  251.  each  were  paid  to  my  sister.  I  should  be 
glad  if  you  could  learn  how  many  copies  of  the  work  have  been  sold 
on  the  whole,  and  whether  any  further  sum  is  now  due.* 


CHAPTER  XXII 


It  was  thought  desirable  about  this  time  to  republish 
^  Wuthering  Heights '  and  ^  Agnes  Grey/  the  works  of  the 
two  sisters,  and  Charlotte  undertook  the  task  of  editing  them. 

She  wrote  to  Mr.  Williams,  September  29,  1850,  '  It  is 
my  intention  to  write  a  few  lines  of  remark  on  Wuther- 
ing Heights, which,  however,  I  propose  to  place  apart  as 
a  brief  preface  before  the  tale.  I  am  likewise  compelling 
myself  to  read  it  over,  for  the  first  time  of  opening  the 
book  since  my  sister's  death.  Its  power  fills  me  with  re- 
newed admiration  ;  but  yet  I  am  oppressed  :  the  reader  is 
scarcely  ever  permitted  a  taste  of  unalloyed  pleasure ; 
every  beam  of  sunshine  is  poured  down  through  black 
bars  of  threatening  cloud  ;  every  page  is  surcharged  with 
a  sort  of  moral  electricity ;  and  the  writer  was  unconscious 
of  all  this — nothing  could  make  her  conscious  of  it. 

^  And  this  makes  me  reflect ;  perhaps  I  am  too  incapable 
of  perceiving  the  faults  and  peculiarities  of  my  own  style. 

^  I  should  wish  to  revise  the  proofs,  if  it  be  not  too  great 
an  inconvenience  to  send  them.  It  seems  to  me  advisable 
to  modify  the  orthography  of  the  old  servant  Joseph's 
speeches  ;  for  though  as  it  stands  it  exactly  renders  the 
Yorkshire  dialect  to  a  Yorkshire  ear,  yet  I  am  sure  South- 
erns must  find  it  unintelligible  ;  and  thus  one  of  the  most 
graphic  characters  in  the  book  is  lost  on  them. 

'  I  grieve  to  say  that  I  possess  no  portrait  of  either  of  my 
sisters." 

To  her  own  dear  friend,^  as  to  one  who  had  known  and 


1  To  Ellen  Nussey.    The  letter  is  dated  October  3,  1850. 


1S50 


A  DEPRESSION  OF  SPIRITS 


493 


loved  her  sisters,  she  writes  still  more  fully  respecting  the 
painfnlness  of  her  task. 

'  There  is  nothing  wrong,  and  I  am  writing  you  aline  as  you 
desire,  merely  to  say  that  I  am  busy  just  now.  Mr.  Smith 
wishes  to  reprint  some  of  Emily's  and  Anne's  works,  with  a 
few  little  additions  from  the  papers  they  have  left ;  and  I  have 
been  closely  engaged  in  revising,  transcribing,  preparing  a 
preface,  notice,  &c.  As  the  time  for  doing  this  is  limited, 
I  am  obliged  to  be  industrious.  I  found  the  task  at  first 
exquisitely  painful  and  depressing  ;  but  regarding  it  in  the 
light  of  a  sacred  duty^  I  went  on,  and  now  can  bear  it  bet- 
ter. It  is  work,  however,  that  I  cannot  do  in  the  evening, 
for  if  I  did  I  should  have  no  sleep  at  night.  Papa,  I  am 
thankful  to  say,  is  in  improved  health,  and  so,  I  think,  am 
I ;  I  trust  you  are  the  same. 

^I  have  just  received  a  kind  letter  from  Miss  Martineau. 
She  has  got  back  to  Ambleside,  and  had  heard  of  my  visit 
to  the  Lakes.  She  expressed  her  regret,  &c.,  at  not  being 
at  home. 

'  I  am  both  angry  and  surprised  at  myself  for  not  being 
in  better  spirits;  for  not  growing  accustomed,  or  at  least 
resigned,  to  the  solitude  and  isolation  of  my  lot.  But  my 
late  occupation  left  a  result  for  some  days,  and  indeed 
still,  very  painful.  The  reading  over  of  papers,  the  re- 
newal of  remembrances,  brought  back  the  pang  of  bereave- 
ment, and  occasioned  a  depression  of  spirits  wellnigh 
intolerable.  For  one  or  two  nights  I  scarcely  knew  how  to 
get  on  till  morning ;  and  when  morning  came  I  was  still 
haunted  with  a  sense  of  sickening  distress.  I  tell  you 
these  things  because  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  me  to 
have  some  relief.  You  will  forgive  me,  and  not  trouble 
yourself,  or  imagine  that  I  am  one  whit  worse  than  I  say. 
It  is  quite  a  mental  ailment,  and  I  believe  my  hope  is  bet- 
ter now.  I  think  so,  because  I  can  speak  about  it,  which 
I  never  can  when  grief  is  at  its  worst. 

thought  to  find  occupation  and  interest  in  writing. 


494 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


when  alone  at  home^  but  hitherto  my  efforts  have  been 
vain ;  the  deficiency  of  every  stimulus  is  so  complete.  You 
will  recommend  me,  I  dare  say,  to  go  from  home  ;  but 
that  does  no  good,  even  could  I  again  leave  papa  with  an 
easy  mind  (thank  God  !  he  is  better).  I  cannot  describe 
what  a  time  of  it  I  had  after  my  return  from  London, 
Scotland,  &c.  There  was  a  reaction  that  sank  me  to  the 
earth  ;  the  deadly  silence,  solitude,  desolation,  were  awful  ; 
the  craving  for  companionship,  the  hopelessness  of  relief, 
were  what  I  should  dread  to  feel  again. 

^  Dear  Nell,  when  I  think  of  you  it  is  with  a  compassion 
and  tenderness  that  scarcely  cheer  me.  Mentally,  I  fear, 
you  also  are  too  lonely  and  too  little  occupied.  It  seems 
our  doom,  for  the  present  at  least.  May  God  in  His  mercy 
help  us  to  bear  it  V 

During  her  last  visit  to  London,  as  mentioned  in  one  of 
her  letters,  she  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  her  corre- 
spondent Mr.  Lewes.    That  gentleman  says — 

^Some  months  after'  (the  appearance  of  the  review  of 
^Shirley'  in  the  ^Edinburgh')  ^Currer  Bell  came  to  Lon- 
don, and  I  was  invited  to  meet  her  at  your  house.  You 
may  remember  she  asked  you  not  to  point  me  out  to  her, 
but  allow  her  to  discover  me  if  she  could.  She  did  rec- 
ognise me  almost  as  soon  as  I  came  into  the  room.  You 
tried  me  in  the  same  way ;  I  was  less  sagacious.  However 
I  sat  by  her  side  a  great  part  of  the  evening,  and  was 
greatly  interested  by  her  conversation.  On  parting  we 
shook  hands,  and  she  said,  We  are  friends  now,  are  Ave 
not?''  ^^Were  we  not  always,  then?"  I  asked.  ^^No! 
not  always,"  she  said,  significantly ;  and  that  was  the  only 
allusion  she  made  to  the  offending  article.  I  lent  her  some 
of  Balzac's  and  George  Sand's  novels  to  take  with  her  into 
the  country ;  and  the  following  letter  was  written  when 
they  were  returned  : — 

^  I  am  sure  you  will  have  thought  me  very  dilatory  in 
returning  the  books  you  so  kindly  lent  me  ;  the  fact  is,  hav- 


1850 


HER  INTERVIEW  WITH  MR.  LEWES 


495 


ing  some  other  books  to  send^  I  retained  yours  to  enclose 
them  in  the  same  parcel. 

^  Accept  my  thanks  for  some  hours  of  pleasant  reading. 
Balzac  was  for  me  quite  a  new  author  ;  and  in  making  his 
acquaintance^  through  the  medium  of  ^Modesto  Mignon^ 
and  ^  Illusions  Perdues/  you  cannot  doubt  I  have  felt  some 
interest.  At  first  I  thought  he  was  going  to  be  painfully 
minute,  and  fearfully  tedious ;  one  grew  impatient  of  his 
long  parade  of  detail,  his  slow  revelation  of  unimportant 
circumstances,  as  he  assembled  his  personages  on  the  stage ; 
but  by-and-by  I  seemed  to  enter  into  the  mystery  of  his 
craft,  and  to  discover,  with  delight,  where  his  force  lay :  is 
it  not  in  the  analysis  of  motive,  and  in  a  subtle  perception 
of  the  most  obscure  and  secret  workings  of  the  mind  ? 
Still,  admire  Balzac  as  we  may,  I  think  we  do  not  like  him  ; 
we  rather  feel  towards  him  as  towards  an  ungenial  acquaint- 
ance who  is  for  ever  holding  up  in  strong  light  our  defects, 
and  who  rarely  draws  forth  our  better  qualities. 

'    Truly  I  like  George  Sand  better. 

^  Fantastic,  fanatical,  unpractical  enthusiast  as  she  of- 
ten is — far  from  truthful  as  are  many  of  her  views  of  life 
— misled,  as  she  is  apt  to  be,  by  her  feelings,  George  Sand 
has  a  better  nature  than  M.  de  Balzac ;  her  brain  is  larger, 
her  heart  warmer  than  his.  The  ^Lettres  d'un  Voyageur^ 
are  full  of  the  writer's  self ;  and  I  never  felt  so  strongly, 
as  in  the  perusal  of  this  work,  that  most  of  her  very  faults 
spring  from  the  excess  of  her  good  qualities :  it  is  this  ex- 
cess which  has  often  hurried  her  into  difficulty,  which  has 
prepared  for  her  enduring  regret. 

'  ^^But  I  believe  her  mind  is  of  that  order  which  disas- 
trous experience  teaches,  without  weakening,  or  too  much 
disheartening,  and,  in  that  case,  the  longer  she  lives  the 
better  she  will  grow.  A  hopeful  point  in  all  her  writings 
is  the  scarcity  of  false  French  sentiment;  I  wish  I  could 
say  its  absence ;  but  the  weed  flourishes  here  and  there  even 
in  the  ^jettres.' ' 

I  remember  the  good  expression  of  disgust  which  Miss 


496 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Bronte  made  use  of  in  speaking  to  me  of  some  of  Balzac^s 
novels  :  ^  They  leave  such  a  bad  taste  in  my  mouth/ 

The  reader  will  notice  that  most  of  the  letters  from 
which  I  now  quote  are  devoted  to  critical  and  literary 
subjects.  These  were,  indeed,  her  principal  interests  at 
this  time  ;  the  revision  of  her  sisters'  works,  and  writing 
a  short  memoir  of  them,  was  the  painful  employment  of 
every  day  during  the  dreary  autumn  of  1850.  Wearied 
out  by  the  vividness  of  her  sorrowful  recollections,  she 
sought  relief  in  long  walks  on  the  moors.  A  friend  of 
hers,  who  wrote  to  me  on  the  appearance  of  the  eloquent 
article  in  the  ^ Daily  News'  upon  the  ^ Death  of  Currer 
Bell,'  gives  an  anecdote  which  may  well  come  in  here. 

'  They  are  mistaken  in  saying  she  was  too  weak  to  roam 
the  hills  for  the  benefit  of  the  air.  I  do  not  think  any  one, 
certainly  not  any  woman,  in  this  locality,  went  so  much  on 
the  moors  as  she  did,  when  the  weather  permitted.  In- 
deed, she  was  so  much  in  the  habit  of  doing  so  that  peo- 
ple, who  live  quite  away  on  the  edge  of  the  common,  knew 
her  perfectly  well.  I  remember  on  one  occasion  an  old 
woman  saw  her  at  a  little  distance,  and  she  called  out, 
"  How  !  Miss  Bronte  !  Hey  yah  (have  you)  seen  ought  o' 
my  cofe  (calf)  Miss  Bronte  told  her  she  could  not  say, 
for  she  did  not  know  it.  Well!"  she  said,  ^"^yah  know, 
it's  getting  up  like  nah  (now),  between  a  cah  (cow)  and  a 
cofe — what  we  call  a  stirk,  yah  know.  Miss  Bronte;  will 
yah  turn  it  this  way  if  yah  happen  to  see't  as  yah're  going 
back.  Miss  Bronte  ?   Nah  do,  Miss  Bronte." ' 

It  must  have  been  about  this  time  that  a  visit  was  paid 
to  her  by  some  neighbours,  who  were  introduced  to  her  by 
a  mutual  friend.  This  visit  has  been  described  in  a  letter 
from  which  I  am  permitted  to  give  extracts,  which  will 
show  the  impression  made  upon  strangers  by  the  character 
of  the  country  round  her  home,  and  other  circumstances. 
^  Though  the  weather  was  drizzly  we  resolved  to  make  our 


REV.  PATRICK  BRONTE. 

From  a  Photograph. 


UBRARY 


1850       A  VISIT  TO  HAWORTH  PARSONAGE  497 


long-planned  excursion  to  Haworth  ;  so  packed  ourselves 
into  the  buffalo  skin,  and  that  into  the  gig,  and  set  off 
about  eleven.  The  rain  ceased,  and  the  day  was  just 
suited  to  the  scenery — wild  and  chill — with  great  masses 
of  cloud  glooming  over  the  moors,  and  here  and  there  a 
ray  of  sunshine  covertly  stealing  through,  and  resting 
with  a  dim  magical  light  upon  some  high  bleak  village  ; 
or  darting  down  into  some  deep  glen,  lighting  up  the  tall 
chimney,  or  glistening  on  the  windows  and  wet  roof  of 
the  mill  which  lies  couching  in  the  bottom.  The  country 
got  wilder  and  wilder  as  we  approached  Haworth  ;  for  the 
last  four  miles  we  were  ascending  a  huge  moor,  at  the  very 
top  of  which  lies  the  dreary,  black-looking  village  of  Ha- 
worth. The  village  street  itself  is  one  of  the  steepest  hills 
I  have  ever  seen,  and  the  stones  are  so  horribly  jolting 

that  I  should  have  got  out  and  walked  with  W  ,  if  pos- 

sible,but,  having  once  begun  the  ascent,  to  stop  was  out  of 
the  question.  At  the  top  was  the  inn  where  we  put  up, 
close  by  the  church  ;  and  the  clergyman^s  house,  we  were 
told,  was  at  the  top  of  the  churchyard.  So  through  that 
we  went — a  dreary,  dreary  place,  literally  paved  with  rain- 
blackened  tombstones,  and  all  on  the  slope  ;  for  at  Ha- 
worth there  is  on  the  highest  height  a  higher  still,  and 
Mr.  Bronte^s  house  stands  considerably  above  the  church. 
There  was  the  house  before  us,  a  small  oblong  stone 
house,  with  not  a  tree  to  screen  it  from  the  cutting  wind  ; 
but  how  we  were  to  get  at  it  from  the  churchyard  we 
could  not  see  !  There  was  an  old  man  in  the  church- 
yard, brooding  like  a  ghoul  over  the  graves,  with  a  sort 
of  grim  hilarity  on  his  face.  I  thought  he  looked  hardly 
human  ;  however  he  was  human  enough  to  tell  us  the 
way,  and  presently  we  found  ourselves  in  the  little  bare 
parlour.  Presently  the  door  opened,  and  in  came  a  su- 
perannuated mastiff,  followed  by  an  old  gentleman  very 
like  Miss  Bronte,  who  shook  hands  with  us,  and  then 
went  to  call  his  daughter.  A  long  interval,  during  which 
we  coaxed  the  old  dog,  and  looked  at  a  picture  of  Miss 


498 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Bronte,  by  Richmond,  the  solitary  ornament  of  the  room, 
looking  strangely  out  of  place  on  the  bare  walls,  and 
at  the  books  on  the  little  shelves,  most  of  them  evidently 
the  gift  of  the  authors  since  Miss  Bronte^s  celebrity.  Pres- 
ently she  came  in,  and  welcomed  us  very  kindly,  and  took 
me  upstairs  to  take  off  my  bonnet,  and  herself  brought  me 
water  and  towels.  The  uncarpeted  stone  stairs  and  floors, 
the  old  drawers  propped  on  wood,  were  all  scrupulously 
clean  and  neat.  When  we  went  into  the  parlour  again  we 
began  talking  very  comfortably,  when  the  door  opened  and 
Mr.  Bronte  looked  in  ;  seeing  his  daughter  there,  I  sujopose 
he  thought  it  was  all  right,  and  he  retreated  to  his  study  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  passage,  presently  emerging  again 

to  bring  W  a  country  newspaper.    This  was  his  last 

appearance  till  we  went.  Miss  Bronte  spoke  with  the 
greatest  warmth  of  Miss  Martineau,  and  of  the  good  she 
had  gained  from  her.  Well !  we  talked  about  various 
things — the  character  of  the  people,  about  her  solitude,  &c. 
— till  she  left  the  room  to  help  about  dinner,  I  suppose, 
for  she  did  not  return  for  an  age.  The  old  dog  had  van- 
ished ;  a  fat  curly-haired  dog  honoured  us  with  his  com- 
pany for  some  time,  but  finally  manifested  a  wish  to  get 
out,  so  we  were  left  alone.  At  last  she  returned,  followed 
by  the  maid  and  dinner,  which  made  us  all  more  comfort- 
able ;  and  we  had  some  very  pleasant  conversation,  in  the 
midst  of  which  time  passed  quicker  than  we  supposed,  for 

at  last  W         found  that  it  was  half -past  three,  and  we 

had  fourteen  or  fifteen  miles  before  us.  So  we  hurried  off, 
having  obtained  from  her  a  promise  to  pay  us  a  visit  in  the 
spring ;  and  the  old  gentleman  having  issued  once  more 
from  his  study  to  say  good-bye,  we  returned  to  the  inn, 
and  made  the  best  of  our  way  homewards. 

^Miss  Bronte  put  me  so  in  mind  of  her  own  ^^Jane 
Eyre."  She  looked  smaller  than  ever,  and  moved  about  so 
quietly,  and  noiselessly,  just  like  a  little  bird,  as  Rochester 
called  her,  barring  that  all  birds  are  joyous,  and  that  joy 
can  never  have  entered  that  house  since  it  was  first  built ; 


1850 


JUSTICE  TO  THE  DEAD 


499 


and  yet,  perhaps,  when  that  old  man  married,  and  took 
home  his  bride,  and  children's  voices  and  feet  were  heard 
abont  the  house,  even  that  desolate  crowded  graveyard  and 
biting  blast  could  not  quench  cheerfulness  and  hope.  Now 
there  is  something  touching  in  the  sight  of  that  little  creat- 
ure entombed  in  such  a  place,  and  moving  about  herself 
like  a  spirit,  especially  when  you  think  that  the  slight  still 
frame  encloses  a  force  of  strong  fiery  life,  which  nothing 
has  been  able  to  freeze  or  extinguish/ 

In  one  of  the  preceding  letters  Miss  Bronte  referred  to 
an  article  in  the  ^Palladium  ^  which  had  rendered  what  she 
considered  the  due  meed  of  merit  to  '  Wuthering  Heights,^ 
her  sister  Emily^s  tale.  Her  own  works  were  praised,  and 
praised  with  discrimination,  and  she  was  grateful  for  this. 
But  her  warm  heart  was  filled  to  the  brim  with  kindly  feel- 
ings towards  him  who  had  done  Justice  to  the  dead.  She 
anxiously  sought  out  the  name  of  the  writer;  and  having 
discovered  that  it  was  Mr.  Sydney  Dobell,  he  immediately 
became  one  of  her 

Peculiar  people  whom  Death  had  made  dear. 

She  looked  with  interest  upon  everything  he  wrote  ;  and 
before  long  we  shall  find  that  they  corresponded. 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ. 

'  October  25. 

^  The  box  of  books  came  last  night,  and,  as  usual,  I  have 
only  gratefully  to  admire  the  selection  made  :  Jeffrey^s 

Essays,''  ^^Dr.  Arnold's  Life,"  ^^The  Roman,"  Alton 
Locke,"  1  these  were  all  wished  for  and  welcome. 

'  You  say  I  keep  no  books  ;  pardon  me — I  am  ashamed  of 
my  own  rapaciousness  :  I  have  kept  Macaulay's  History," 
and  Wordsworth's    Prelude,"  and  Taylor's     Philip  Van 

*  Jeffrey's  Essays  appeared  in  one  volume  in  1844  ;  Dr.  Arnold's 
LifCy  by  Dean  Stanley,  in  1845  ;  The  Romany  by  Sidney  Dobell,  in 
1850  ;  and  Alton  Locke,  by  Charles  Kingsley,  in  1850. 


500  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Artevelde."  I  soothe  my  conscience  by  saying  that  the 
two  last — being  poetry — do  not  count.  This  is  a  convenient 
doctrine  for  me:  I  meditate  acting  upon  it  with  reference  to 
^^The  Roman/^  so  I  trust  nobody  in  Cornhill  will  dispute 
its  validity  or  affirm  that  *^  poetry"^  has  a  value,  except  for 
trunk-makers. 

^  I  have  already  had  Macaulay's  Essays/^  Sidney  Smithes 
Lectures  on  Moral  Philosophy/^  and  Knox  on  ^^Race.^' 
Pickering's  work  on  the  same  subject  I  have  not  seen ;  nor 
all  the  volumes  of  Leigh  Hunt's  ^^Autobiography/'  How- 
ever I  am  now  abundantly  supplied  for  a  long  time  to  come. 
I  liked  Hazlitt's    Essays''  much.^ 

^  The  autumn,  as  you  say,  has  been  very  fine.  I  and  sol- 
itude and  memory  have  often  profited  by  its  sunshine  on 
the  moors. 

had  felt  some  disappointment  at  the  non-arrival  of 
the  proof  sheets  of  Wuthering  Heights;"  a  feverish  im- 
patience to  complete  the  revision  is  apt  to  beset  me.  The 
work  of  looking  over  papers,  &c.,  could  not  be  gone  through 
with  impunity  and  with  unaltered  spirits ;  associations  too 
tender,  regrets  too  bitter,  sprang  out  of  it.  Meantime  the 
Cornhill  books  now,  as  heretofore,  are  my  best  medicine, 
affording  a  solace  which  could  not  be  yielded  by  the  very 
same  books  procured  from  a  common  library. 

^  Already  I  have  read  the  greatest  part  of  The  Ro- 
man;" passages  in  it  possess  a  kindling  virtue  such  as  true 
poetry  alone  can  boast ;  there  are  images  of  genuine  gran- 
deur; there  are  lines  that  at  once  stamp  themselves  on  the 
memory.   Can  it  be  true  that  a  new  planet  has  risen  on  the 

*  Macaulay's  Essays  first  appeared  in  1843  ;  Sydney  Smith's  Lectures 
delivered  in  1804-6  were  published  in  1850  under  the  title  of  Elemen- 
tary Sketches  of  Moral  Philosophy.  The  Races  of  Men :  a  Fragment^ 
by  Dr.  Robert  Knox  (1791-1862),  entomologist  and  anatomist,  first  ap- 
peared in  1850.  The  Races  of  Man,  by  C.  Pickering,  was  published  in 
1850,  as  was  also  the  first  edition  of  Lei2:h  Hunt's  Autobiography. 
The  edition  of  Hazlitt  would  be  the  reprint  in  1845-6  of  Table  Talk, 
or  Original  Essays  on  Men  and  Manners,  which  first  appeared  in 
1821-2. 


1S50 


SYDNEY  DOBELL'S  ^  ROMAN 


501 


heaven^  whence  all  stars  seemed  fast  fading  ?  I  believe  it 
is ;  for  this  Sydney  or  Dobell  speaks  with  a  voice  of  his 
own^  unborrowed^  unmimicked.  You  hear  Tennyson,  in- 
deed, sometimes,  and  Byron  sometimes,  in  some  passages 
of  ''The  Roman;"''  but  then  again  you  have  anew  note, 
nowhere  clearer  than  in  a  certain  brief  lyric,  sung  in  a 
meeting  of  minstrels,  a  sort  of  dirge  over  a  dead  brother ; 
that  not  only  charmed  the  ear  and  brain,  it  soothed  the 
heart/ » 

^  She  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Mr.  George  Smith  on  October  31, 
1850:-- 

*  My  dear  Sir, — It  is  pleasing  to  find  that  already  a  species  of  prep- 
aration is  commencing  in  your  mind,  and,  I  doubt  not,  in  the  minds 
of  others  in  Cornhill,  &c.,  towards  a  due  reception  of  that  Coming 
Man"  the  great  Cardinal  Archbishop  Wiseman.  After  his  arrival 
London  will  not  be  what  it  was,  nor  will  this  day  and  generation  be 
either  what  or  where  they  were.  A  new  Joshua — a  greater  even  than 
Joshua — will  command  the  sun — not  merely  to  stand  still,  but  to  go 
back  six  centuries. 

'  I  could  have  fancied  something — if  not  in  your  letter  yet  in  the 
clever  scribe  it  enclosed — savouring  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Yielding  to 
the  impulse  of  fancy,  I  cannot  help  anticipating  the  time  when  65 
Cornhill  shall  be  honoured  by  the  daily  domiciliary  visit  of  a  "  friar 
of  orders  grey,"  and  when  that  small  back  room  (I  do  not  know  what 
its  present  mundane  use  and  denomination  may  be),  lit  by  a  skylight, 
shall  be  fitted  up  as  an  oratory,  with  a  saint  in  a  niche,  two  candles 
always  burning,  a  prie-dieu^  and  a  handsomely  bound  Missal ;  also  a 
confessional  chair — very  comfortable — for  the  priest,  and  a  square  of 
carpet,  or  better  the  bare  boards,  for  the  penitent. 

'  Here,  every  morning,  when  you,  Mr.  Taylor,  and  Mr.  Williams 
come  in  to  business,  you  will,  instead  of  at  once  repairing  to  your  desks 
in  heathenish  sort,  enter,  tell  your  beads  (each  of  you  will  wear  a 
goodly  rosary  and  crucifix),  sign  yourselves  with  holy  water  (of  which 
there  will  always  be  a  small  vase  properly  replenished),  and — once  a 
month  at  least — you  will  duly  make  confession  and  receive  absolution. 
The  ease  this  will  give  to  your  now  never-disburthened  heretic  con- 
sciences words  can  but  feebly  express. 

*  So  gratifying  is  this  picture  that  I  feel  reluctant  to  look  on  any 
other  ;  Imagination,  however,  obstinately  persists  in  showing  the  re- 
verse. What  if  your  organ  of  Firmness  should  withstand  **  Holy 
Obedience"?    What  if  your  causative  and  investigatory  faculties 


502  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


The  following  extract  will  be  read  with  interest  as  con- 
veying her  thoughts  after  the  perusal  of  Dr.  Arnold^s 
'Life:^— 

*  November  6. 

'I  have  just  finished  reading  the  ^^Life  of  Dr.  Arnold  f 
but  now,  when  I  wish,  according  to  your  request,  to  ex- 
should  question  the  infallibilty  of  Rome  ?  What  if  that  presumptu- 
ous self-reliance,  that  audacious  championship  of  Reason  and  Common 
Sense  which  ought  to  have  been  crushed  out  of  you  all  in  your  cra- 
dles, or  at  least  during  your  school  days,  and  which,  perhaps,  on  the 
contrary,  were  encouraged  and  developed,  what  if  these  things  should 
induce  you  madly  to  oppose  the  returning  supremacy  and  advancing 
victory  of  the  Holy  Catholic  Church  ? 

*The  answer  is  afflicting,  but  must  be  given  ;  indeed,  you  give  it 
yourself  when  3'^ou  allude  to  "  the  preparations  in  Smithfield."  The 
chances  are  that  some  First  Sunday  in  Advent  (1880)  you  find  your- 
selves  duly  robed  in  the  yellow  "San  Benito,"  walking  in  the  proces- 
sion of  as  fine  an  "  auto  da  fe"  as  ever  made  Christendom  exult. 

*  The  two  post-office  orders  came  safely.  I  showed  papa  the  Pa'per 
fjantern  y*  he  was  greatly  amused  with  it,  and  would  like  to  see  the 
whole  when  it  is  completed  to  show  the  curates,  whose  case  it  will  fit 
with  much  nicety. 

*  What  you  say  about  the  present  dulness  and  dreariness  of  London, 
and  the  sort  of  longing  for  fresh  air  and  freedom  your  words  rather 
imply  than  express,  contain  for  me  the  germs  of  a  wholesome  sermon 
—a  sermon  which  I  shall  often  preach  to  myself  on  these  long  autumn 
evenings  and  longer  winter  evenings  that  approach.  To  quote  an  old 
Puritan  tract,  * '  there  is  a  crook  in  every  lot. " 

*  Be  sure  not  to  give  yourself  much  trouble  about  Mr.  Newby  ;  I 
have  not  the  least  expectation  that  you  will  be  able  to  get  anything 
from  him ;  he  has  an  evasive,  shuffling  plan  of  meeting,  or  rather 
eluding,  such  demands,  against  which  it  is  fatiguing  to  contend.  If 
you  think  payment  would  be  really  inconvenient,  do  not  urge  it.  I 
must  now,  however,  dissuade  you  from  calling  on  him.  As  to  that 
information  which  is  to  earn  **a  statue  in  Paternoster  Row,"  I  hope 
Mr.  Wyatt  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  said  statue,  and  also  that 
it  will  not  be  equestrian.    As  to  the  costume,  doubtless  felicitous 


*  A  Paper  Lantern  for  Puseyites,  by  '  Will  o'  the  Wisp,'  a  satire  in 
verse,  was  first  published  by  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.  in  1843  ;  a  new  and 
revised  edition  of  the  pamphlet  being  issued  by  the  same  firm  in  1850. 


1850         HER  CHARACTER  OF  DR.  ARNOLD  503 


press  what  I  think  of  it,  I  do  not  find  the  task  very  easy ; 
proper  terms  seem  wanting.  This  is  not  a  character  to  be 
dismissed  with  a  few  laudatory  words  ;  it  is  not  a  one-sided 
character ;  pure  panegyric  would  be  inappropriate.  Dr. 
Arnold  (it  seems  to  me)  was  not  quite  saintly ;  his  great- 
ness was  cast  in  a  mortal  mould ;  he  was  a  little  severe, 
almost  a  little  hard  ;  he  was  vehement  and  somewhat  op- 
pugnant.  Himself  the  most  indefatigable  of  workers,  I 
know  not  whether  he  could  have  understood,  or  made  al- 
lowance for,  a  temperament  that  required  more  rest ;  yet 
not  to  one  man  in  twenty  thousand  is  given  his  giant  faculty 
of  labour;  by  virtue  of  it  he  seems  to  me  the  greatest  of 
working  men.  Exacting  he  might  have  been,  then,  on  this 
point ;  and  granting  that  he  were  so,  and  a  little  hasty, 
stern,  and  positive,  those  were  his  sole  faults  (if,  indeed, 
that  can  be  called  a  fault  which  in  no  shape  degrades  the 
individuaFs  own  character,  but  is  only  apt  to  oppress  and 
overstrain  the  weaker  nature  of  his  neighbours).  After- 
wards come  his  good  qualities.  About  these  there  is  noth- 
ing dubious.  Where  can  we  find  justice,  firmness,  indepen- 
dence, earnestness,  sincerity,  fuller  and  purer  than  in  him  ? 

^But  this  is  not  all,  and  I  am  glad  of  it.  Besides  high 
intellect  and  stainless  rectitude  his  letters  and  his  life  attest 
his  possession  of  the  most  true-hearted  affection.  Withoitt 
this,  however  one  might  admire,  one  could  not  love  him ; 
but  with  it  I  think  we  love  him  much.  A  hundred  such 
men  —  fifty — nay,  ten,  or  five,  such  righteous  men  might 
save  any  country ;  might  victoriously  champion  any  cause. 

ideas  will  be  suggested  on  that  head  by  the  novelties  which,  report 
says,  are  likely  to  be  introduced  at  the  Great  Exhibition. 

*  Forgive  all  the  nonsense  of  this  letter,  there  is  such  a  pleasure  and 
relief  either  in  writing  or  talking  a  little  nonsense  sometimes  to  any- 
body who  is  sensible  enough  to  understand  and  good-natured  enough 
to  pardon  it. 

'  Believe  me 

*  Yours  sincerely, 

'  C.  Bronte. 

*  George  Smith,  Esq.' 


504  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


was  struck,  too,  by  the  almost  unbroken  happiness  of 
his  life  ;  a  happiness  resulting  chiefly,  no  doubt,  from  the 
right  use  to  which  he  put  that  health  and  strength  which 
God  had  given  him,  but  also  owing  partly  to  a  singular 
exemption  from  those  deep  and  bitter  griefs  which  most 
human  beings  are  called  on  to  endure.  His  wife  was  what 
he  wished  ;  his  children  were  healthy  and  promising ;  his 
own  health  was  excellent ;  his  undertakings  were  crowned 
with  success ;  even  death  was  kind,  for  however  sharp  the 
pains  of  his  last  hour  they  were  but  brief.  God^s  blessing 
seems  to  have  accompanied  him  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave.  One  feels  thankful  to  know  that  it  has  been  per- 
mitted to  any  man  to  live  such  a  life. 

^  When  I  was  in  Westmoreland  last  August  I  spent  an 
evening  at  Fox  How,  where  Mrs.  Arnold  and  her  daugh- 
ters still  reside.  It  was  twilight  as  I  drove  to  the  place, 
and  almost  dark  ere  I  reached  it ;  still  I  could  perceive 
that  the  situation  was  lovely.  The  house  looked  like  a  nest 
half  buried  in  flowers  and  creepers;  and,  dusk  as  it  was,  I 
could  feel  that  the  valley  and  the  hills  round  were  beauti- 
ful as  imagination  could  dream.' ^ 

If  I  say  again  what  I  have  said  already  before,  it  is  only 

^  A  letter  to  Mr.  George  Smith  is  dated  December  3,  1850 : — 

*  Your  Will  o'  the  Wisp  is  a  very  pleasant  and  witty  sprite,  and 
though  not  venomous  his  pungency  may  be  none  the  less  effective  on 
that  account.  Indeed,  I  believe  a  good-natured  kind  of  ridicule  is  a 
weapon  more  appropriate  to  the  present  crisis  than  bitter  satire  or 
serious  indignation.  We  are  in  no  danger.  Why  should  we  be  angry? 
I  only  wish  the  author  had  rectified  some  of  her  rhymes  (such  as  se- 
dilia  and  familmr,  tiara  and  bear^?),  but  critics  will  surely  not  be  se- 
vere with  the  little  book. 

*  Mr.  M.  A.  Titmarsh  holds  out  an  alluring  invitation  to  the  Rhine. 
I  hope  thousands  will  take  advantage  of  the  facilities  he  offers  to  make 
the  excursion  in  the    polite  society  "  of  the  Kickleburys. 

*  As  to  Mr,  New  by,  he  charms  me.  First  there  is  the  fascinating 
coyness  with  which  he  shuns  your  pursuit.  For  a  month,  or  nearly 
two  months,  have  you  been  fondly  hoping  to  win  from  him  an  inter- 
view, while  he  has  been  making  himself  scarce  as  violets  at  Christ- 
mas, aristocratically  absenting  himself  from  town,  evading  your  grasp 


DREARY  MONOTONY  OF  LIFE  505 


to  impress  and  re-impress  upon  my  readers  the  dreary 
monotony  of  her  life  at  this  time.  The  dark,  bleak  season 
of  the  year  brought  back  the  long  evenings,  which  tried 
her  severely,  all  the  more  so  because  her  weak  eyesight 
rendered  her  incapable  of  following  any  occupation  but 
knitting  by  candle-light.  For  her  father^s  sake,  as  well  as 
for  her  own,  she  found  it  necessary  to  make  some  exertion 
to  ward  ofE  settled  depression  of  spirits.  She  accordingly 
accepted  an  invitation  to  spend  a  week  or  ten  days  with 
Miss  Martineau  at  Ambleside.     She  also  proposed  to  come 

like  a  publisher  metamorphosed  into  a  rainbow.  Then,  when  you 
come  upon  him  in  that  fatal  way  in  Regent  Street,  pin  him  down, 
and  hunt  him  home  with  more  promptitude  than  politeness,  and  with 
a  want  of  delicate  consideration  for  your  victim's  fine  feelings  calcu- 
lated to  awaken  emotions  of  regret,  that  victim  is  'still  ready  for  the 
emergency.  Scorning  to  stand  on  the  defensive,  he  at  once  assumes 
the  offensive.  Not  only  has  he  realised  no  profit,  he  has  sustained 
actual  loss  ;  and,  to  account  for  this,  adds,  with  a  sublime  boldness  of 
invention,  that  the  author  "wished  him  to  spend  all  possible  profits 
in  advertisements."  ^ 

'  Equally  well  acted  too  is  the  artless  simplicity  of  his  surprise  at 
the  news  you  communicate  ;  and  his  pretty  little  menace  of  a  Chan- 
cery injunction  "  consummates  the  picture  and  makes  it  perfect. 

'Any  statement  of  accounts  he  may  send  I  shall  at  once  trans- 
mit to  you.  In  your  hands  I  leave  him ;  deal  with  him  as  you  list, 
but  I  heartily  wish  you  well  rid  of  the  business. 

*  On  referring  to  Mr.  Newby's  letters  I  find  in  one  of  them  a  boast 
that  he  is  "  advertising  vigorously."  I  remember  that  this  flourish 
caused  us  to  look  out  carefully  for  the  results  of  his  vast  exertions  ; 
but  though  we  everywhere  encountered  Jane  Eyre  it  was  as  rare  a 
thing  to  find  an  advertisement  of  Wuthering  Heights  as  it  appears 
to  be  to  meet  with  Mr.  Newby  in  town  at  an  unfashionable  season 
of  the  year.  The  fact  is  he  advertised  the  book  very  scantily  and 
for  a  very  short  time.  Of  course  we  never  expressed  a  wish  or  ut- 
tered an  injunction  on  the  subject ;  nor  was  it  likely  we  should, 
as  it  was  rather  important  to  us  to  recover  the  50?.  we  had  advanced  ; 
more  we  did  not  ask. 

'  I  would  say  something  about  regret  for  the  trouble  you  have 
had  in  your  chase  of  this  ethereal  and  evanescent  ornament  of  *'  the 
Trade,"  but  I  fear  apologies  would  be  even  worse  than  thanks.  Both 
these  shall  be  left  out.' 


506  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


to  Manchester  and  see  me,  on  her  way  to  Westmoreland. 
But,  unfortunately,  I  was  from  home,  and  not  able  there- 
fore to  receive  her.  The  friends  with  whom  I  was  staying 
in  the  South  of  England  (hearing  me  express  my  regret 
that  I  could  not  accept  her  friendly  proposal,  and  aware  of 
the  sad  state  of  health  and  spirits  which  made  some  change 
necessary  for  her)  wrote  to  desire  that  she  would  come  and 
spend  a  week  or  two  with  me  at  their  house.  She  ac- 
knowledged this  invitation  in  a  letter  to  me,  dated 

'  December  13,  1850. 

^My  dear  Mrs.  Gaskell, — Miss  ^s  kindness  and  yours 

is  such  that  I  am  placed  in  the  dilemma  of  not  knowing 
how  adequately  to  express  my  sense  of  it.  This  I  know, 
however,  very  well — that  if  I  could  go  and  be  with  you  for 
a  week  or  two  in  such  a  quiet  south-country  house,  and  with 
such  kind  people  as  you  describe,  I  should  like  it  much.  I 
find  the  proposal  marvellously  to  my  taste ;  it  is  the 
pleasantest,  gentlest,  sweetest  temptation  possible ;  but, 
delectable  as  it  is,  its  solicitations  are  by  no  means  to  be 
yielded  to  without  the  sanction  of  reason,  and  therefore  I 
desire  for  the  present  to  be  silent,  and  to  stand  back  till  I 
have  been  to  Miss  Martineau^s,  and  returned  home,  and 
considered  well  whether  it  is  a  scheme  as  right  as  agree- 
able. 

^  Meantime  the  mere  thought  does  me  good.^ 

On  December  10  the  second  edition  of  ^Wuthering 
Heights^  was  published.-  She  sent  a  copy  of  it  to  Mr. 
Dobell,  with  the  following  letter : — 

Haworth,  Keighley,  near  Yorkshiro  : 
*  December  8,  1850. 
offer  this  little  book  to  my  critic  in  the  Palladium/' 
and  he  must  believe  it  accompanied  by  a  tribute  of  the  sin- 
cerest  gratitude ;  not  so  much  for  anything  he  has  said  of 
myself  as  for  the  noble  justice  he  has  rendered  to  one  dear 
to  me  as  myself — perhaps  dearer — and  perhaps  one  kind  word 


1850  HER  LETTER  TO  MR.  DOBELL  507 


spoken  for  her  awakens  a  deeper,  tenderer  sentiment  of 
thankfulness  than  eulogies  heaped  on  my  own  head.  As 
you  will  see  when  you  have  read  the  biographical  notice, 
my  sister  cannot  thank  you  herself;  she  is  gone  out  of  your 
sphere  and  mine,  and  human  blame  and  praise  are  nothing 
to  her  now.  But  to  me,  for  her  sake,  they  are  something 
still ;  it  revived  me  for  many  a  day  to  find  that,  dead  as  she 
was,  the  work  of  her  genius  had  at  last  met  with  worthy 
appreciation. 

'  Tell  me,  when  you  have  read  the  introduction,  whether 
any  doubts  still  linger  in  your  mind  respecting  the  author- 
ship of  "  Wuthering  Heights,''  "  Wildfell  Hall,"  &c.  Your 
mistrust  did  me  some  injustice  ;  it  proved  a  general  con- 
ception of  character  such  as  I  should  be  sorry  to  call  mine; 
but  these  false  ideas  will  naturally  arise  when  we  only  judge 
an  author  from  his  works.  In  fairness  I  must  also  disclaim 
the  flattering  side  of  the  portrait.  I  am  no  young  Penthe- 
silea  mediis  in  milUhus,^'  but  a  plain  country  parson's 
daughter. 

*  Once  more  I  thank  you,  and  that  with  a  full  heart. 

'  C.  Bkoj^te.' 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


Immediately  after  the  republication  of  her  sister^s  book 
she  went  to  Miss  Martineau^s. 

^  I  can  write  to  yon  now,  dear  Ellen/  for  I  am  away  from 
home,  and  relieved,  temporarily  at  least,  by  change  of  air 
and  scene,  from  the  heavy  burden  of  depression  which,  I 
confess,  has  for  nearly  three  months  been  sinking  me  to 
the  earth.  I  shall  never  forget  last  autumn.  Some  days 
and  nights  have  been  cruel ;  but  now,  having  once  told 
you  this,  I  need  say  no  more  on  the  subject.  My  loathing 
of  solitude  grew  extreme,  my  recollection  of  my  sisters 
intolerably  poignant.  I  am  better  now.  I  am  at  Miss 
Martineau^s  for  a  week.  Her  house  is  very  pleasant,  both 
within  and  without ;  arranged  at  all  points  with  admirable 
neatness  and  comfort.  Her  visitors  enjoy  the  most  perfect 
liberty  ;  what  she  claims  for  herself  she  allows  them.  I 
rise  at  my  own  hour,  breakfast  alone  (she  is  up  at  five, 
takes  a  cold  bath,  and  a  walk  by  starlight,  and  has  finished 
breakfast  and  got  to  her  work  by  seven  o^clock).  [I  must 
insert  a  correction  of  this  mistake  as  to  Miss  Martineau's 
hours,  the  fact  being  that  Miss  Martineau  rose  at  six,  and 
went  to  work  at  half-past  eight,  breakfasting  separately 
from  her  visitor  ;  as  she  says  in  a  letter  with  which  she  has 
favoured  me,  ^^it  was  my  practice  to  come  and  speak  to 
0.  B.  when  she  sat  down  to  breakfast,  and  lefore  I  went  to 
work.^^]    I  pass  the  morning  in  the  drawing-room — she,  in 

^  This  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey  is  dated  December  18,  1850,  from  The 
Knoll,  Ambleside. 


1850        IMPRESSIONS  OF  MISS  MARTINEAU  509 


her  study.  At  two  o^clock  we  meet — work,  talk,  and  walk 
together  till  five,  her  dinner  hour,  spend  the  evening  to- 
gether, when  she  converses  fluently  and  abundantly,  and 
with  the  most  complete  frankness.  I  go  to  my  own  room 
soon  after  ten  ;  she  sits  up  writing  letters  till  twelve.  She 
appears  exhaustless  in  strength  and  spirits,  and  indefati- 
gable in  the  faculty  of  labour.  She  is  a  great  and  good 
woman  ;  of  course  not  without  peculiarities,  but  I  have 
seen  none  as  yet  that  annoy  me.  She  is  both  hard  and 
warm  hearted,  abrupt  and  affectionate,  liberal  and  despotic. 
I  believe  she  is  not  at  all  conscious  of  her  own  absolutism. 
When  I  tell  h^cr  of  it  she  denies  the  charge  warmly  ;  then 
I  laugh  at  her.  I  believe  she  almost  rules  Ambleside. 
Some  of  the  gentry  dislike  her,  but  the  lower  orders  have 
a  great  regard  for  her.  ...  I  thought  I  should  like  to 
spend  two  or  three  days  with  you  before  going  home  ;  so, 
if  it  is  not  inconvenient  to  you,  I  will  (D.V.)  come  on 
Monday  and  stay  till  Thursday.  ...  I  have  truly  enjoyed 
my  visit  here.  I  have  seen  a  good  many  people,  and  all 
have  been  so  marvellously  kind  ;  not  the  least  so  the  family 
of  Dr.  Arnold.    Miss  Martineau  I  relish  inexpressibly.* 

^  To  her  father  she  writes  under  date  December  15,  1850  (the  letter 
is  wrongly  dated  in  Charlotte  Bronte  and  her  Circle): — 

'  Dear  Papa, — I  think  I  shall  not  come  home  till  Thursday.  If  all 
be  well  I  shall  leave  here  on  Monday  and  spend  a  day  or  two  with 
Ellen  Nussey.  I  have  enjoyed  my  visit  exceedingly.  Sir  J.  K.- 
Shuttleworth  has  called  several  times  and  taken  me  out  in  his  car- 
riage. He  seems  very  truly  friendly  ;  but,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  he  looks 
pale  and  very  much  wasted.  I  greatly  fear  he  will  not  live  very  long 
unless  some  change  for  the  better  soon  takes  place.  Lady  S.  is  ill  too, 
and  cannot  go  out.  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  Dr.  Arnold's  family, 
and  like  them  much.  As  to  Miss  Martineau,  I  admire  her  and  won- 
der at  her  more  than  I  can  say.  Her  powers  of  labour,  of  exercise, 
and  social  cheerfulness  are  beyond  my  comprehension.  In  spite  of 
the  unceasing  activity  of  her  colossal  intellect  she  enjoys  robust  health. 
She  is  a  taller,  larger,  and  more  strongly  made  woman  than  I  had 
imagined  from  that  first  interview  with  her.  She  is  very  kind  to  me, 
though  she  must  think  I  am  a  very  insignificant  person  compared  to 
herself.    She  has  just  been  into  the  room  to  show  me  a  chapter  of 


510  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Miss  Broute  paid  the  visit  she  here  proposes  to  her 
friend,  bat  only  remained  two  or  three  days.  She  then  re- 
turned home,  and  immediately  began  to  suffer  from  her  old 
enemy,  sickly  and  depressing  headache.  This  was  all  the 
more  trying  to  bear  as  she  was  obliged  to  take  an  active 
share  in  the  household  work,  one  servant  being  ill  in  bed, 
and  the  other.  Tabby,  aged  upwards  of  eighty. 

This  visit  to  Ambleside  did  Miss  Bronte  much  good,  and 
gave  her  a  stock  of  pleasant  recollections,  and  fresh  inter- 
ests, to  dwell  upon  in  her  solitary  life.  There  are  many 
references  in  her  letters  to  Miss  Martineau's  character  and 
kindness. 

^  She  is  certainly  a  woman  of  wonderful  endowments, 
both  intellectual  and  physical ;  and  though  I  share  few  of 
her  opinions,  and  regard  her  as  fallible  on  certain  points  of 
judgment,  I  must  still  award  her  my  sincerest  esteem.  The 
manner  in  which  she  combines  the  highest  mental  cult- 
ure with  the  nicest  discharge  of  feminine  duties  filled  me 
with  admiration,  while  her  affectionate  kindness  earned  my 
gratitude.^  think  her  good  and  noble  qualities  far  out- 
weighed her  defects.  It  is  my  habit  to  consider  the  indi- 
vidual apart  from  his  (or  her)  reputation,  practice  indepen- 
dent of  theory,  natural  disposition  isolated  from  acquired 
opinions.  Harriet  Martineau^s  person,  practice,  and  char- 
acter inspire  me  with  the  truest  affection  and  respect.^ 
^  You  ask  me  whether  Miss  Martineau  made  me  a  convert 
to  mesmerism.  Scarcely ;  yet  I  heard  miracles  of  its  effi- 
cacy, and  could  hardly  discredit  the  whole  of  what  was  told 

her  history  which  she  is  now  writing,  relating  to  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington's character  and  his  proceedings  in  the  Peninsula.  She  wanted 
an  opinion  on  it,  and  I  was  happy  to  be  able  to  give  a  very  approving 
one.    She  seems  to  understand  and  do  him  justice. 

*  You  must  not  direct  any  more  letters  here,  as  they  will  not  reach 
me  after  to-day.  Hoping,  dear  papa,  that  you  are  well,  and  with  kind 
regards  to  Tabby  and  Martha,  I  am  your  affectionate  daughter, 

*C.  Bronte.' 


1850 


A  CHARMING  ENTHUSIASM 


511 


me.  I  even  underwent  a  personal  experiment ;  and  though 
the  result  was  not  absolutely  clear  it  was  inferred  that  in 
time  I  should  prove  an  excellent  subject.  The  question  of 
mesmerism  will  be  discussed  with  little  reserve,  I  believe, 
in  a  forthcoming  work  of  Miss  Martineau's ;  and  I  have 
some  painful  anticipations  of  the  manner  in  which  other 
subjects,  oflEering  less  legitimate  ground  for  speculation, 
will  be  handled."* 

Miss  Martineau  sends  me  the  following  account  of  the 
*  personal  experiment^  to  which  Miss  Bronte  refers  : — ^  By 
the  way,  for  the  mesmeric  experiment  on  C.  B.  I  was  not 
responsible.  She  was  strangely  pertinacious  about  that, 
and  1 77iost  reluctant  to  bring  it  before  her  at  all,  we  being 
alone,  and  I  having  no  confidence  in  her  nerves.  Day  after 
day  she  urged  me  to  mesmerise  her.  I  always,  and  quite 
truly,  pleaded  that  I  was  too  tired  for  success,  for  we  had 
no  opportunity  till  the  end  of  the  day.  At  last,  on  Sunday 
evening,  we  returned  from  early  tea  somewhere  ;  I  could 
not  say  I  was  tired,  and  she  insisted.  I  stopped  the  mo- 
ment she  called  out  that  she  was  under  the  influence,  and  I 
would  not  resume  it." 

Miss  Martineau  has  kindly  permitted  me  to  make  use  of 
one  or  two  anecdotes  which  she  remembers,  and  which  re- 
fer to  this  period. 

'  One  trait  may  interest  you.  Her  admiration  of  Welling- 
ton brought  it  to  my  mind.  One  morning  I  brought  her 
the  first  page  of  the  chapter  on  the  Peninsular  War  in  my 
Introductory  History,  and  said,  ''Tell  me  if  this  will  do  for 
a  beginning,'"  &c.  I  read  the  page  or  two  to  her,  as  we 
stood  before  the  fire,  and  she  looked  up  at  me  and  stole  her 
hand  into  mine,  and  to  my  amazement  the  tears  were  run- 
ning down  her  cheeks.  She  said,  ''Oh  !  I  do  thank  you  ! 
Oh  !  we  are  of  one  mind  !  Oli !  I  thank  you  for  this  justice 
to  the  man.""  I  saw  at  once  there  was  a  touch  of  idolatry 
in  the  case,  but  it  was  a  charming  enthusiasm.  ...  As  to 
the  lecture  about  which  you  ask,  C.  B.  sat  sideways  to  me. 


512 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


It  was  long,  for  I  got  interested  and  forgot  the  time.  She 
kept  her  eyes  on  me  the  whole  time^  till  her  neck  must 
have  ached  desperately.  She  stole  up  to  the  little  platform 
on  which  I  was  standing,  while  the  people  dispersed,  and 
as  the  light  shone  down  into  her  eyes  repeated  (in  my  very 
voice)  Is  my  son  dead  (Edward  III.^s  words  at  the  wind- 
mill during  the  battle  of  Crecy).  We  came  home  in  silence 
(a  very  little  way).  In  the  drawing-room  the  first  thing 
I  did  was  to  light  the  lamp,  and  the  first  flare  showed  C. 
B.  with  large  eyes,  staring  at  me,  and  repeating  ^*^Is  my 
son  dead  T' ' 

LETTER  FROM  C.  B.  TO  MISS  W.^ 

'  Your  last  letter  evinced  such  a  sincere  and  discriminating 
admiration  for  Dr.  Arnold  that  perhaps  you  will  not  be 
wholly  uninterested  in  hearing  that,  during  my  late  visit  to 
Miss  Martineau,  I  saw  much  more  of  Fox  How  and  its  in- 
mates, and  daily  admired,  in  the  widow  and  children^  of 

^  This  letter  was  not  addressed  to  Miss  W(ooler),  but  to  Mr.  James 
Taylor.  It  is  dated  Jan.  15,  1851,  and  is  contained  in  the  packet  of 
letters  lent  by  Mr.  Taylor  to  Mrs.  Gaskell.  It  is  now  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Mr.  Taylor's  executors. 

*  Matthew  Arnold,  the  most  famous  of  the  Arnold  children,  thus  re- 
called one  of  these  visits  in  his  correspondence :  *  I  talked  to  Miss 
Bronte  (past  thirty  and  plain,  with  expressive  grey  eyes  though)  of 
her  curates,  of  French  novels,  and  her  education  in  a  school  at  Brus- 
sels.' 

Miss  Bronte  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  James  Taylor,  printed  at  length  in 
Charlotte  Bronte  and  her  Circle,  gives  a  further  impression  of  the  Ar- 
nolds. 

*  Mrs.  Arnold  is,  indeed,  as  I  judge  from  my  own  observations  no 
less  than  from  the  unanimous  testimony  of  all  who  really  know  her, 
a  good  and  amiable  woman  ;  but  the  intellectual  is  not  her  forte,  and 
she  has  no  pretensions  to  power  or  completeness  of  character.  The 
same  remark,  I  think,  applies  to  her  daughters.  You  admire  in  them 
the  kindliest  feelings  towards  each  other  and  their  fellow  creatures, 
and  they  offer  in  their  home  circle  a  beautiful  example  of  family 
uoiiy,  and  of  that  refinement  which  is  sure  to  spring  thence;  but 
when  the  conversation  turns  on  literature  or  any  subject  that  offers  a 
test  for  the  intellect,  you  usually  felt  that  their  opinions  were  rather 


1851 


DR.  ARNOLD'S  FAMILY 


513 


one  of  the  greatest  and  best  men  of  his  time,  the  posses- 
sion of  qualities  the  most  estimable  and  endearing.  Of 
my  kind  hostess  herself  I  cannot  speak  in  terms  too  high. 
Without  being  able  to  share  all  her  opinions,  philosophi- 
cal, political,  or  religious — without  adopting  her  theories 
— I  yet  find  a  worth  and  greatness  in  herself,  and  a  con- 
sistency, benevolence,  perseverance  in  her  practice,  such  as 
wins  the  sincerest  esteem  and  affection.  She  is  not  a  per- 
son to  be  judged  by  her  writings  alone,  but  rather  by  her 

imitative  than  original,  rather  sentimental  than  sound.  Those  who 
have  only  seen  Mrs.  Arnold  once  will  necessarily,  I  think,  judge  of 
her  unfavourably  ;  her  manner  on  introduction  disappointed  me  sen- 
sibly, as  lacking  that  genuineness  and  simplicity  one  seemed  to  have  a 
right  to  expect  in  the  chosen  life  companion  of  Dr.  Arnold.  On  my 
remarking  as  much  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  and  Sir  J.  K.-Shuttleworth  I  was 
told  for  my  consolation  it  was  a  "conventional  manner,"  but  that  it 
vanished  on  closer  acquaintance  ;  fortunately  this  last  assurance  proved 
true.  It  is  observable  that  Matthew  Arnold,  the  eldest  son,  and  the 
author  of  the  volume  of  poems  to  which  you  allude,  inherits  his 
mother's  defect.  Striking  and  prepossessing  in  appearance,  his  man- 
ner displeases  from  its  seeming  foppery.  I  own  it  caused  me  at  first 
to  regard  him  with  regretful  surprise;  the  shade  of  Dr.  Arnold  seemed 
to  me  to  frown  on  his  young  representative.  I  was  told,  however, 
that  "Mr.  Arnold  improved  upon  acquaintance."  So  it  was:  ere  long 
a  real  modesty  appeared  under  his  assumed  conceit,  and  some  genuine 
intellectual  aspirations,  as  well  as  high  educational  acquirements,  dis- 
placed superficial  affectations.  I  was  given  to  understand  that  his 
theological  opinions  were  very  vague  and  unsettled,  and  indeed  he 
betrayed  as  much  in  the  course  of  conversation.  Most  unfortunate 
for  him,  doubtless,  has  been  the  untimely  loss  of  his  father.' 

Thomas  Arnold  (1795-1842),  the  famous  head-master  of  "Rugby,  had 
been  dead  some  years  when  Charlotte  Bronte  visited  Fox  How,  a 
pleasant  house  at  Ambleside  still  occupied  by  members  of  his  family. 
Matthew  Arnold  (1822-1888),  distinguished  alike  as  a  poet  and  a  critic, 
was  just  on  the  eve  of  his  appointment  as  an  inspector  of  schools  at 
this  time.  He  had  published  Alaric  at  Rome  (1840),  Cromwell  (1843), 
The  Strayed  Reveller  (1849) — three  little  volumes  of  verse — before  1851. 
His  years  of  fame  were  all  before  him.  He  sent  his  Poems  of  1853  to 
Miss  Bronte,  and  the  book  is  still  in  her  husband's  library.  His  poem 
on  *  Haworth  Churchyard'  was  first  published  in  Fraser'a  Magazine^ 
May  1855,  and  reprinted  in  Poems,  2  vols.,  1877. 
33 


614 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


own  deeds  and  life,  than  which  nothing  can  be  more  ex- 
emplary or  nobler.  She  seems  to  me  the  benefactress  of 
Ambleside,  yet  takes  no  sort  of  credit  to  herself  for  her 
active  and  indefatigable  philanthropy.  The  government 
of  her  household  is  admirably  administered :  all  she  does 
is  well  done,  from  the  writing  of  a  history  down  to  the 
quietest  female  occupation.  No  sort  of  carelessness  or 
neglect  is  allowed  under  her  rule,  and  yet  she  is  not  over- 
strict  or  too  rigidly  exacting  :  her  servants  and  her  poor 
neighbours  love  as  well  as  respect  her. 

'  I  must  not,  however,  fall  into  the  error  of  talking  too 
much  about  her,  merely  because  my  own  mind  is  just  now 
deeply  impressed  with  what  I  have  seen  of  her  intellectual 
power  and  moral  worth.  Faults  she  has  :  but  to  me  they 
appear  very  trivial  weighed  in  the  balance  against  her  ex- 
cellences. 

^  Your  account  of  Mr.  Atkinson  tallies  exactly  with  Miss 
Martineau's.  She  too  said  that  placidity  and  mildness 
(rather  than  originality  and  power)  were  his  external  char- 
acteristics. She  described  him  as  a  combination  of  the 
antique  Greek  sage  with  the  European  modern  man  of 
science.  Perhaps  it  was  mere  perversity  in  me  to  get  the 
notion  that  torpid  veins,  and  a  cold,  slow-beating  heart, 
lay  under  his  marble  outside.  But  he  is  a  materialist :  he 
serenely  denies  us  our  hope  of  immortality  and  quietly 
blots  from  man's  future  Heaven  and  the  Life  to  come. 
That  is  why  a  savour  of  bitterness  seasoned  my  feeling 
towards  him. 

^All  you  say  of  Mr.  Thackeray  is  most  graphic  and 
characteristic.  He  stirs  in  me  both  sorrow  and  anger. 
Why  should  he  lead  so  harassing  a  life  ?  Why  should  his 
mocking  tongue  so  perversely  deny  the  better  feelings  of 
his  better  moods  ?' 

For  some  time,  whenever  she  was  well  enough  in  health 
and  spirits,  she  had  been  employing  herself  upon  '  Vil- 
lette  ;^  but  she  was  frequently  unable  to  write,  and  was 


1851 


LETTER  TO  MR.  SMITH 


515 


both  grieved  and  angry  with  herself  for  her  inability. i  In 
February  she  writes  as  follows  to  Mr.  Smith  : — 

^Something  yon  say  about  going  to  London;  but  the 
words  are  dreamy,  and  fortunately  I  am  not  obliged  to 
hear  or  answer  them.  London  and  summer  are  many 
months  away  :  our  moors  are  all  white  with  snow  just  now, 
and  little  redbreasts  come  every  morning  to  the  window 
for  crumbs.  One  can  lay  no  plans  three  or  four  months 
beforehand.  Besides,  I  don^t  deserve  to  go  to  London  : 
nobody  merits  a  change  or  a  treat  less.  I  secretly  think, 
on  the  contrary,  I  ought  to  be  put  in  prison,  and  kept  on 
bread  and  water  in  solitary  confinement — without  even  a 
letter  from  Cornhill  —  till  I  have  written  a  book.  One  of 
two  things  would  certainly  result  from  such  a  mode  of 
treatment  pursued  for  twelve  months ;  either  I  should 
come  out  at  the  end  of  that  time  with  a  three- volume 
MS.  in  my  hand,  or  else  with  a  condition  of  intellect  that 
would  exempt  me  ever  after  from  literary  efforts  and 
expectations.'''* 

^  She  writes  to  Mr.  George  Smith  on  January  19,  1851 : — 
'The  enclosed  copy  should  have  been  returned  ere  this,  if  I  had 
been  able  to  attend  to  ordinary  matters,  but  I  grew  worse  after  I 
wrote  to  you  last  and  was  very  ill  for  some  days.  Weak  I  still  con- 
tinue, but  believe  I  am  getting  better,  and  very  grateful  do  I  feel  for 
the  improvement  —  grateful  for  my  father's  sake  no  less  than  for  my 
own. 

'  It  made  me  sorrowful  to  hear  that  you  too  had  been  ill,  but  I  trust 
you  are  now  quite  recovered.  I  thought  you  would  hardly  ever  be 
ill  ;  you  looked  so  healthy,  but  over-anxiety  and  confining  labour  will 
undermine  the  strongest. 

*I  have  not  heard  a  word  from  Miss  Martineau  and  conclude  her 
silence  is  of  no  good  omen.' 

2  There  are  some  interesting  omissions  from  this  letter  to  her  pub- 
lisher, which  is  dated  February  5,  1851  : — 

'Perhaps  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  trouble  you  with  an  answer  to 
your  last,  as  I  have  already  written  to  Mr.  Williams,  and  no  doubt  he 
will  have  told  you  that  I  have  yielded  with  ignoble  facility  in  the 
matter  of  The  Professor.    Still,  it  may  be  proper  to  make  some  at- 


516 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Meanwhile  she  was  disturbed  and  distressed  by  the  pub- 
lication of  Miss  Martineau^s  ^  Letters/  &c.      they  came 

tempt  towards  dignifying  that  act  of  submission  by  averring  that  it 
was  done  "  under  protest." 

'  The  Professor  has  now  had  the  honour  of  being  rejected  nine  times 
by  the  "  Tr-de  "  (three  rejections  go  to  your  own  share)  ;  you  may 
affirm  that  you  accepted  it  this  last  time,  but  that  cannot  be  admitted  ; 
if  it  were  only  for  the  sake  of  symmetry  and  effect  I  must  regard  this 
martyrised  MS.  as  repulsed,  or  at  any  rate  withdrawn  for  the  ninth 
time  !  Few,  I  flatter  myself,  have  earned  an  equal  distinction,  and 
of  course  my  feelings  towards  it  can  only  be  paralleled  by  those  of  a 
doting  parent  towards  an  idiot  child.  Its  merits,  I  plainly  perceive,  will 
never  be  owned  by  anybody  but  Mr.  Williams  and  me  ;  very  particu- 
lar and  unique  must  be  our  penetration,  and  I  think  highly  of  us  both 
accordingly.  You  may  allege  that  that  merit  is  not  visible  to  the 
naked  eye.  Granted  ;  but  the  smaller  the  commodity  the  more  inesti- 
mable its  value. 

*  You  kindly  propose  to  take  The  Professor  into  custody.  Ah,  no  I 
His  modest  merit  shrinks  at  the  thought  of  going  alone  and  unbe- 
friended  to  a  spirited  publisher.  Perhaps  with  slips  of  him  you  might 
light  an  occasional  cigar,  or  you  might  remember  to  lose  him  some- 
where, and  a  Cornhill  functionary  would  gather  him  up  and  consign 
him  to  the  repositories  of  waste  paper,  and  thus  he  would  prematurely 
find  his  way  to  the  butter  man  "  and  trunkmakers.  No,  1  have  put 
him  by  and  locked  him  up,  not  indeed  in  my  desk,  where  I  could  not 
tolerate  the  monotony  of  his  demure  Quaker  countenance,  but  in  a 
cupboard  by  himself. 

'  You  touch  upon  invitations  from  baronets,  &c.  As  you  are  well 
aware,  a  fondness  for  such  invitations  and  an  anxious  desire  to  obtain 
them  is  my  weak  point.  Aristocratic  notice  is  what  I  especially  covet, 
cultivate,  and  cling  to.  It  does  me  so  much  good  ;  it  gives  me  such 
large,  free,  and  congenial  enjoyment.  How  happy  I  am  when  coun- 
selled or  commended  by  a  baronet  or  noticed  by  a  lord  ! 

*  Those  papers  on  the  London  poor  are  singularly  interesting  ;  to  me 
they  open  a  new  and  strange  world,  very  dark,  very  dreary,  very  noisome 
in  some  of  its  recesses,  a  world  that  is  fostering  such  a  future  as  I 
scarcely  dare  imagine,  it  awakens  thoughts  not  to  be  touched  on  in 
this  foolish  letter.  The  fidelity  and  simplicity  of  the  letterpress  details 
harmonise  well  with  the  daguerreotype  illustrations. 

*  You  must  thank  your  mother  and  sisters  for  their  kind  remem- 
brances and  offer  mine  in  return.' 

^  Letters  on  the  Laws  of  Man's  Social  Nature,  by  Harriet  Martineau 
and  H.  G.  Atkinson,  1851. 


1851        MISS  MARTINEAU'S  *  LETTERS,'  ETC.  517 

down  with  a  peculiar  force  and  heaviness  upon  a  heart  that 
looked^  with  fond  and  earnest  faith,  to  a  future  life  as  to 
the  meeting-place  with  those  who  were  Moved  and  lost 
awhile/ 

'February  11,  1851. 

'  My  dear  Sir, — Have  you  yet  read  Miss  Martineau's  and 
Mr.  Atkinson's  new  work,  Letters  on  the  Nature  and  De- 
velopment of  Man'"?  If  you  have  not  it  would  be  worth 
your  while  to  do  so. 

*  Of  the  impression  this  book  has  made  on  me  I  will  not 
now  say  much.  It  is  the  first  exposition  of  avowed  atheism 
and  materialism  I  have  ever  read ;  the  first  unequivocal  dec- 
laration of  disbelief  in  the  existence  of  a  God  or  a  future 
life  I  have  ever  seen.  In  judging  of  such  exposition  and 
declaration,  one  w^ould  wish  entirely  to  put  aside  the  sort 
of  instinctive  horror  they  awaken,  and  to  consider  them  in 
an  impartial  spirit  and  collected  mood.  This  I  find  it  dif- 
ficult to  do.  The  strangest  thing  is  that  we  are  called  on 
to  rejoice  over  this  hopeless  blank — to  receive  this  bitter 
bereavement  as  great  gain — to  welcome  this  unutterable 
desolation  as  a  state  of  pleasant  freedom.  Who  could  do 
this  if  he  would  ?    Who  would  do  it  if  he  could  ? 

^  Sincerely,  for  my  own  part,  do  I  wish  to  find  and  know 
the  Truth  ;  but  if  this  be  Truth,  well  may  she  guard  her- 
self with  mysteries,  and  cover  herself  with  a  veil.  If  this 
be  Truth,  man  or  woman  who  beholds  her  can  but  curse 
the  day  he  or  she  was  born.  I  said,  however,  I  would  not 
dwell  on  what  /  thought ;  I  wish  to  hear,  rather,  what  some 
other  person  thinks,  some  one  whose  feelings  are  unapt  to 
bias  his  judgment.  Read  the  book,  then,  in  an  unprej- 
udiced spirit,  and  candidly  say  what  you  think  of  it.*  I 
mean,  of  course,  if  you  have  time — not  otherwise,^ 

^  '  I  do  most  entirely  agree  with  you  in  what  you  say  about  Miss 
Martineau's  and  Mr.  Atkinson's  book/  Miss  Bronte  writes  to  Mr.  James 
Taylor  (March  24,  1851).  '  I  deeply  regret  its  publication  for  the  lady's 
sake  ;  it  gives  a  death-blow  to  her  future  usefulness.  Who  can  trust 
the  word,  or  rely  on  the  judgment,  of  an  avowed  atheist  ?' 


518  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


And  yet  she  could  not  bear  the  contemptuous  tone  in 
which  this  work  was  spoken  of  by  many  critics ;  it  made 
her  more  indignant  than  almost  any  other  circumstance 
during  my  acquaintance  with  her.  Much  as  she  regretted 
the  publication  of  the  book,  she  could  not  see  that  it  had 
given  any  one  a  right  to  sneer  at  any  action,  certainly 
prompted  by  no  wordly  motive. 

^  Your  remarks  on  Miss  Martineau  and  her  book  pleased 
me  greatly,  from  their  tone  and  spirit.  I  have  even  taken 
the  liberty  of  transcribing  for  her  benefit  one  or  two  phrases, 
because  I  know  they  will  cheer  her  ;  she  likes  sympathy 
and  appreciation  (as  all  people  do  who  deserve  them);  and 
most  fully  do  I  agree  with  you  in  the  dislike  you  express  of 
that  hard,  contemptuous  tone  in  which  her  work  is  spoken 
of  by  many  critics.^ 

Before  I  return  from  the  literary  opinions  of  the  author 
to  the  domestic  interests  of  the  woman  I  must  copy  out 
what  she  felt  and  thought  about  '  The  Stones  of  Ven- 
ice.^ ^ 

' The  Stones  of  Venice seem  nobly  laid  and  chiselled. 
How  grandly  the  quarry  of  vast  marbles  is  disclosed!  Mr. 
Ruskin  seems  to  me  one  of  the  few  genuine  writers,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  book-makers,  of  this  age.  His  earnestness 
even  amuses  me  in  certain  passages ;  for  I  cannot  help 
laughing  to  think  how  utilitarians  will  fume  and  fret  over 
his  deep,  serious  (and,  as  they  will  think),  fanatical  rever- 
ence for  Art.  That  pure  and  severe  mind  you  ascribed  to 
him  speaks  in  every  line.  He  writes  like  a  consecrated 
priest  of  the  Abstract  and  Ideal. 

'  I  shall  bring  with  me  The  Stones  of  Venice  all  the 
foundations  of  marble  and  of  granite,  together  with  the 
mighty  quarry  out  of  which  they  were  hewn  ;  and,  into 
the  bargain,  a  small  assortment  of  crotchets  and  dicta — 
the  private  property  of  one  John  Ruskin,  Esq.^ 

^  The  Stones  of  Venice,  by  John  Ruskin,  appeared  in  three  volumes, 
1851-2-3.  Miss  BrontS  must,  therefore,  have  received  the  first  volume 
from  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.,  who  then  published  Mr.  Raskin's  works. 


1S51 


BENEFIT  FROM  COMPANIONSHIP  519 


As  spring  drew  on  the  depression  of  spirits  to  which  she 
was  subject  began  to  grasp  her  again,  and  ^  to  crush  her 
with  a  day-and-night-mare/  She  became  afraid  of  sinking 
as  low  as  she  had  done  in  the  autumn  ;  and,  to  avoid  this, 
she  prevailed  on  her  old  friend  and  schoolfellow  to  come 
and  stay  with  her  for  a  few  weeks  in  March.  She  found 
great  benefit  from  this  companionship,  both  from  the  con- 
genial society  itself  and  from  the  self-restraint  of  thought 
imposed  by  the  necessity  of  entertaining  her  and  looking 
after  her  comfort.  On  this  occasion  Miss  Bronte  said,  '  It 
will  not  do  to  get  into  the  habit  of  running  away  from 
home,  and  thus  temporarily  evading  an  oppression  instead 
of  facing,  wrestling  with,  and  conquering  it,  or  being  con- 
quered by  it.^^ 

^  On  March  8  she  writes  to  Mr.  Smith — 

*  I  have  read  Rose  Douglas,  read  it  with  a  tranquil  but  not  a  shallow 
pleasure  ;  full  well  do  I  like  it.  It  is  a  good  book — so  simple,  so  natu- 
ral, so  truthful,  so  graphic,  so  religious — in  a  word,  so  Scottish  in  the 
best  and  kindliest  sense  of  the  term.  Surely  it  will  succeed,  for  no 
critic  can  speak  otherwise  than  well  of  it. 

*I  could  not  refrain  from  writing  these  few  lines  respecting  it,  and 
you  must  be  forgiving  should  my  note  intrude  on  a  busy  moment.* 

The  letter  is  continued  on  March  11:— 

'  The  preceding  was  written  before  I  received  yours  ;  a  few  more 
lines  must  now  be  added. 

*  Do  you  know  that  the  first  part  of  your  note  is  most  dangerous- 
ly suggestive  ?  What  a  rich  field  of  subject  you  point  out  in  your 
allusions  to  Cornhill,  &c. — a  field  at  which  I  myself  should  only  have 
ventured  to  glance  like  the  serpent  at  Paradise  ;  but  when  Adam  him- 
self opens  the  gates  and  shows  the  way  in,  what  can  the  honest  snake 
do  but  bend  its  crest  in  token  of  gratitude  and  glide  rejoicingly  through 
the  aperture? 

'But  no  !  Don't  be  alarmed.  You  are  all  safe  from  Currer  Bell — 
safe  from  his  satire — safer  from  his  eulogium.  We  cannot  (or  at  least 
/cannot)  write  of  our  acquaintance  with  the  consciousness  that  others 
will  recognise  their  portraits,  or  that  they  themselves  will  know  the 
hand  which  has  sketched  them.  Under  such  circumstances  the  pencil 
would  falter  in  the  fingers  and  shrink  alike  from  the  indication  of 
bold  shades  and  brilliant  lights  (especially  the  last,  because  it  would 


520 


LIFE  OF  CHAKLOTTE  BRONTE 


I  shall  now  make  an  extract  from  one  of  her  letters, 
which  is  purposely  displaced  as  to  time/  I  quote  it  because 

look  like  flattery) ;  plain  speaking  would  seem  audacious,  praise  ob- 
trusive. 

*  Were  it  possible  that  I  could  take  you  all  fearlessly,  like  so  many 
abstractions,  or  historical  characters  that  had  been  dust  a  hundred 
years,  could  handle,  analyse,  delineate  you,  without  danger  of  the 
picture  being  recognised  either  by  yourselves  or  others,  1  should  think 
my  material  abundant  and  rich.  This,  however,  is  no  more  possible 
than  that  the  nurse  should  give  the  child  the  moon  out  of  the  sky.  So 
— I  repeat  it — you  are  very  safe.' 

1  Letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  dated  April  9,  1851. 

'  Papa  was  much  pleased  with  Mr.  Raskin's  pamphlet,*  only  he 
thought  the  scheme  of  amalgamation  suggested  towards  the  close- 
impracticable.  For  my  part  I  regard  the  brochure  as  a  refreshing 
piece  of  honest  writing,  good  sense  uttered  by  pure  lips.  The  Pusey- 
ite  priesthood  will  not  relish  it ;  it  strips  them  mercilessly  of  their 
pompous  pretensions. 

*  Was  not  Mr.  Thackeray's  speech  at  Macready's  farewell  dinner 
peculiarly  characteristic?  I  fancied  so  from  the  outline  I  saw  of  it  in 
the  papers.  It  seemed  to  me  scarcely  to  disguise  a  secret  sneer  at  the 
whole  concern — the  hero  and  his  worshippers — and  indeed  Mr.  Mac- 
ready's admirers  exaggerate  their  enthusiasm.  Your  description  of 
Mr.  Forster  made  me  smile ;  I  can  well  fancy  him  in  that  state  of 
ebullient  emotion. 

*  I  paused  in  a  sort  of  wonder  over  what  you  say  in  referring  to 
your  new  Indian  undertaking.  While  earnestly  wishing  you  all  suc- 
cess in  it  I  cannot  but  wish  with  at  least  equal  earnestness  that  it  may 
not  bring  too  much  additional  care  and  labour. 

*  May  not  trade  have  its  Alexanders  as  well  as  war  ?  and  does  not 
many  a  man  begin  with  a  modest  Macedon  in  the  City  and  end  by 
desiring  another  world  for  his  speculations  ? 

*  But  I  suppose  your  work  is  your  pleasure  and  your  responsibility 
your  strength,  and  very  likely  what  a  looker-on  regards  as  a  grievous 
burden  is  only  the  weight  necessary  to  steady  the  arch.  Your  im- 
plied injunction  to  discretion  is  not  uttered  in  a  negligent  ear,  nor  is 
Currer  Bell  insensible  to  the  compliment  of  being  told  something 
about  business ;  that  he  does  not  understand  all  the  bearings  of  the 
communication  by  no  means  diminishes  his  gratification  in  receiving 
and  looking  upon  it ;  he  turns  it  in  his  hand  as  a  savage  would  a  new 


*  Notes  on  the  Construction  of  Sheep  folds.    By  John  Ruskin,  1851. 


ISol 


THIRD  OFFER  OF  MARRIAGE 


521 


it  relates  to  a  third  offer  of  marriage  which  she  had,  and  be- 
cause I  find  that  some  are  apt  to  imagine,  from  the  extraor- 
dinary power  with  which  she  represented  the  passion  of  love 
in  her  novels,  that  she  herself  was  easily  susceptible  of  it. 

^  Could  I  ever  feel  enough  for  ^  to  accept  of  him  as 

a  husband?  Friendship — gratitude— esteem — I  have  ;  but 
each  moment  he  came  near  me,  and  that  I  could  see  his 
eyes  fastened  on  me,  my  veins  ran  ice.  Now  that  he  is 
away  I  feel  far  more  gentle  towards  him ;  it  is  only  close 
by  that  I  grow  rigid,  stiffening  with  a  strange  mixture  of 
apprehension  and  anger,  which  nothing  softens  but  his  re- 
treat and  a  perfect  subduing  of  his  manner.  I  did  not 
want  to  be  proud,  nor  intend  to  be  proud,  but  I  was  forced 
to  be  so.  Most  true  it  is  that  we  are  overruled  by  One 
above  us,  that  in  His  hands  our  very  will  is  as  clay  in  the 
hands  of  the  potter.' 

I  have  now  named  all  the  offers  of  marriage  she  ever  re- 
ceived, until  that  was  made  which  she  finally  accepted. 
The  gentleman  referred  to  in  this  letter  retained  so  much 
regard  for  her  as  to  be  her  friend  to  the  end  of  her  life,  a 
circumstance  to  his  credit  and  to  hers. 

Before  her  friend  Ellen  took  her  departure  Mr.  Bronte 

trinket  or  tool  of  unknown  use,  and  likes  without  fully  comprehend- 
ing it. 

'  I  hope  Mr.  Taylor  will  bear  the  voyage  and  the  change  of  climate 
well. 

*  I  am  truly  sorry  to  hear  that  your  mother  has  not  been  well,  and 
especially  that  her  indisposition  arose  from  so  harassing  a  cause  as 
family  annoyance  of  any  kind;  give  my  kind  regards  to  her  and  your 
sisters.' 

*  *  Mr.  Taylor.'  This  was  James  Taylor,  who,  as  managing  clerk 
in  the  employment  of  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.,  is  frequently  mentioned  in 
the  correspondence.  He  was,  soon  after  Charlotte  Bronte  refused  to 
marry  him,  despatched  by  Smith,  Elder,  &  Co.  to  Bombay,  where  for 
a  few  years  he  conducted  the  branch  house  of  Smith,  Taylor,  &  Co. 
That  venture  was  unsuccessful,  but  Mr.  Taylor  prospered  in  Bombay, 
married,  and  shortly  before  his  death  was  elected  sheriff.  The  in- 
scription on  his  tomb  in  the  Bombay  cemetery  runs,  *  James  Taylor, 
died  April  29,  1874,  aged  57.' 


522 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


canght  cold,  and  continued  for  some  weeks  much  out  of 
health,  with  an  attack  of  bronchitis.  His  spirits,  too, 
became  much  depressed,  and  all  his  daughter's  efforts  were 
directed  towards  cheering  him. 

When  he  grew  better,  and  had  regained  his  previous 
strength,  she  resolved  to  avail  herself  of  an  invitation 
which  she  had  received  some  time  before  to  pay  a  visit  in 
London.  This  year,  1851,  was,  as  every  one  remembers, 
the  time  of  the  Great  Exhibition  ;  but  even  with  that  at- 
traction in  prospect  she  did  not  intend  to  stay  there  long ; 
and,  as  usual,  she  made  an  agreement  with  her  friends, 
before  finally  accepting  their  offered  hospitality,  that  her 
sojourn  at  their  house  was  to  be  as  quiet  as  ever,  since  any 
other  way  of  proceeding  disagreed  with  her  both  mentally 
and  physically.  She  never  looked  excited  except  for  a 
moment,  when  something  in  conversation  called  her  out ; 
but  she  often  felt  so,  even  about  comparative  trifles,  and 
the  exhaustion  of  reaction  was  sure  to  follow.  Under  such 
circumstances  she  always  became  extremely  thin  and  hag- 
gard ;  yet  she  averred  that  the  change  invariably  did  her 
good  afterwards.* 

'  There  are  five  new  letters,  of  dates  prior  to  this  London  visit,  three 
addressed  to  Mr.  Smith  and  two  to  his  mother. 

'March  31,1851. 

'My  dear  Sir, — Mrs.  Gaskell's  letter  had  not  remained  unanswered 
a  week,  but  the  fact  is  she  was  taken  with  a  little  fit  of  impatience, 
whereof  she  has  duly  recorded  her  confession  and  repentance,  and  all 
is  right  now. 

'  I  am  in  very  reasonably  good  health,  thank  you,  and  always  in  as 
good  spirits  as  I  can  manage  to  be. 

*  I  dare  offer  no  word  of  sympathy  to  Cornhill,  hard-tasked  as  are 
its  energies  just  now.  Since  you  are  doing  right  and  serving  with 
fidelity  and  courage  in  the  ranks  of  duty,  you  must  in  a  measure  be 
happy — mo7'e  happy  than  you  have  leisure  to  recognise.  Dr.  Forbes 
will  tell  you,  and  tell  you  truly,  that  successful  labour  to  a  good  end 
is  one  of  the  best  gifts  of  Heaven  to  man,  and  Duty,  your  present 
sovereign  lady,  though  she  wears  an  austere  brow,  has  also  a  grateful 
heart,  and  will  one  day  repay  loyal  service  with  noble  recompense. 

'  What  you  say  about  relinquishing  your  proposed  Continental  trip 


1851    PROPOSED  VISIT  TO  GREAT  EXHIBITION  b23 


Her  preparations  in  the  way  of  dress  for  this  visit,  in  the 
gay  time  of  that  gay  season,  were  singularly  in  accordance 
with  her  feminine  taste  ;  quietly  anxious  to  satisfy  her  love 

stirs  in  me  a  feeble  spirit  of  emulation.  By  way  of  imitation  on  a 
small  scale  I  would  fain  give  up  all  thoughts  of  going  to  London  or 
elsewhere  this  spring  or  summer.  Were  I  but  as  sure  as  you  are  of 
being  able  to  work  to  some  purpose,  gladly,  gladly  would  I  make  the 
sacrifice— indeed,  it  would  be  no  sacrifice.  I  have  before  this  found  in 
absorbing  work  a  curative  and  comforting  power  not  to  be  yielded 
by  relaxation. 

'The  Stones  of  Venice  is  a  splendid  and  most  tasteful  volume,  speak- 
ing of  the  mere  outside  and  illustrations  ;  the  letterpress  I  have  as  yet 
only  glanced  over,  catching  sparkles  of  living  eloquence  here  and 
there,  but  I  hold  in  reserve  the  pleasure  of  studying  it  thoroughly. 

*  You  speak  highly  of  Mr.  Taylor,  and  I  think  deservedly  so.  I  be- 
lieve he  is  a  good  man,  firm-principled,  right-minded,  and  reliable. 
His  belongs  to  that  better  order  of  character  to  which  it  is  difficult  to 
render  full  justice  in  an  early  stage  of  acquaintance.  To  be  appreci- 
ated he  must  be  known.  In  him  the  kernel  is  not  without  its  husk  ; 
and  you  must  have  time  and  opportunity  to  penetrate  beneath  the 
outside,  to  get  inured  to  the  manner  before  you  even  understand  the 
man.    So  I  think  at  least. 

'With  inly  felt  wishes  for  your  success,  and  renewed  and  earnest 
injunctions  that  you  will  never  permit  the  task  of  writing  to  Currer 
Bell  to  add  however  slightly  to  your  burdens  (for,  whether  you  think 
so  or  not,  he  is  a  disciplined  person  who  can  endure  long  fastings  and 
exist  on  very  little  food — just  what  Fate  chooses  to  give — and  indeed 
can  do  without),  I  am  sincerely  yours, 

*  C.  Bronte. 

'George  Smith,  Esq.* 

'  Haworth  :  April  17,  1851. 

*  My  dear  Mrs.  Smith, — Before  I  received  your  note  I  was  nursing  a 
comfortable  and  complacent  conviction  that  I  had  quite  made  up  my 
mind  not  to  go  to  Loudon  this  year  ;  the  Great  Exhibition  was  noth- 
ing— only  a  series  of  bazaars  under  a  magnified  hot-house,  and  I  myself 
was  in  a  Pharisaical  state  of  superiority  to  temptation.  But  Pride 
has  its  fall.  I  read  your  invitation,  and  immediately  felt  a  great  wish 
to  descend  from  my  stilts.  Not  to  conceal  the  truth,  I  should  like  to 
come  and  see  you  extremely  well. 

*  I  think  with  you,  however,  that  June  would  be  the  best  time  to 
name — better  than  an  earlier  period.  My  father,  though  now  much 
better  than  he  was,  has  usually  somewhat  variable  health  throughout 


534' 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


for  modest,  dainty,  neat  attire,  and  not  regardless  of  the 
becoming,  yet  remembering  consistency,  both  with  her  gen- 
eral appearance  and  with  her  means,  in  every  selection  she 
made. 

the  spring,  and  till  warmer  weather  fairly  sets  in  I  should  hardly 
think  it  right  or  feel  happy  to  leave  him. 

*  Mr.  Taylor,  whose  brief  visit  gave  me  great  pleasure,  told  me,  to 
my  regret,  that  you  had  all  been  ill  of  the  influenza,  and  that  Miss 
Smith  especially  had  suffered.  This  I  was  very  sorry  to  hear,  because 
she  is  not  one  of  the  strongest,  and  I  fear  would  not  hastily  lose  the 
debilitating  effects  of  influenza.    I  trust  she  is  now  quite  recovered. 

'  With  kindest  regards  to  her  and  all  your  circle,  and  with  ray  fa- 
ther's acknowledgment  and  response  to  your  kind  remembrance  of 
him, 

*  I  am,  my  dear  Mrs.  Smith, 

*  Sincerely  yours, 
'  C.  Bronte. 

'  P.S. — A  sudden  reproach  occurs  to  me.  When  I  was  last  in  Lon- 
don I  professed  to  be  working  a  cushion  of  which  1  meant  when  fin- 
ished to  make  an  offering  to  you.  That  cushion — or  rather  the  can- 
vas which  ought  ere  this  to  have  matured  into  a  cushion — lies  neatly 
papered  up  in  a  drawer,  just  as  it  was  last  summer.  Could  even  Car- 
dinal Wiseman  grant  absolution  for  shortcomings  of  this  description  ? 
But  you  shall  have  a  cushion,  and  a  pretty  one,  only  you  must  not  be 
too  particular  in  asking  me  how  I  came  by  it.  You  will  indeed  have 
the  perfect  goodness  to  suppose  it  of  my  work ;  the  circumstance  of 
its  being  from  the  same  pattern  as  the  one  I  intended  to  manufacture 
will  favour  this  benevolent  delusion.  On  second  thoughts  I  might 
quite  well  have  passed  it  off  as  such,  if  I  had  not  gone  and  spoiled 
that  plan  by  the  above  confession.' 

*  April  19,  1851. 

*  My  dear  Sir, — My  scheme  of  emulation  appears  to  have  terminated 
in  a  somewhat  egregious  failure,  as  perhaps  your  mother  may  have 
told  you.  One  can't  help  it.  One  does  not  profess  to  be  made  out  of 
granite. 

'  Your  project,  depend  on  it,  has  been  quite  providentially  put  a 
stop  to.  And  do  you  really  think  I  would  have  gone  to  the  Rhine 
this  summer  ?  Do  you  think  I  would  have  partaken  in  all  that  un- 
earned pleasure  ? 

*  Now  listen  to  a  serious  word.  You  might  possibly  have  persuaded 
me  to  go  (I  do  not  think  that  you  would,  but  it  does  not  become  me  to 
be  very  positive  on  that  point,  seeing  that  proofs  of  inflexibility  do  not 


1851      PREPARING  FOR  A  VISIT  TO  LONDON  525 


^  By  the  by,  I  meant  to  ask  yon  when  yon  went  to  Leeds 
to  do  a  small  errand  for  me,  but  fear  your  hands  will  be  too 
fnll  of  business.    It  was  merely  this  :  in  case  you  chanced 

abound),  yet  had  I  gone  I  should  not  have  been  truly  happy  ;  self-re- 
proach would  have  gnawed  at  the  root  of  enjoyment ;  it  is  only  drones 
and  wasps  who  willingly  eat  honey  they  have  not  hived,  and  I  protest 
against  being  classed  with  either  of  these  insects.  Ergo,  though  I 
am  sorry  for  your  own  and  your  sister's  sake  that  your  castle  on  the 
Rhine  has  turned  out  a  castle  in  the  air,  I  am  not  at  all  sorry  for  mine. 

*  May  I  be  so  egotistical  as  to  say  a  word  or  two  about  my  health  ? 
Two  ladies,  neither  of  them  unknown  to  fame,  whom  I  reverence  for 
their  talents  and  love  for  their  amiability,  but  of  whom  I  would  beg 
the  small  favour  of  being  allowed  to  remain  in  tolerable  health,  seem 
determined  between  them  that  I  shall  be  a  sort  of  invalid  ;  and,  chiefly 
owing  to  them,  I  am  occasionally  kept  in  hot  water  by  people  asking 
me  how  I  am.  If  I  do  not  answer  the  letters  of  these  ladies  by  return 
of  post — which,  without  being  precisely  a  person  overwhelmed  with 
business,  one  may  not  always  have  time  to  do — flying  rumours  present- 
ly reach  me  derogatory  to  my  physical  condition.  Twice  kind  but  mis- 
led strangers  living  in  southern  counties  have  with  the  greatest  good- 
ness written  to  ask  me  to  their  houses  for  the  benefit  of  a  milder  cli- 
mate, offering  every  "  accommodation  suitable  to  an  invalid  lady.'' 

*  This,  in  one  sense,  touches  me  with  almost  painful  gratitude,  but 
in  another  it  makes  me  a  little  nervous.  Why  may  not  I  be  well  like 
other  people  ?  I  think  I  am  reasonably  well — not  strong  or  capable 
of  much  continuous  exertion  (which  I  do  not  remember  that  I  ever 
was),  and  apt,  no  doubt,  to  look  haggard  if  over-fatigued,  but  other- 
wise I  have  no  ailment,  and  I  maintain  that  I  am  well,  and  hope 
(D.V.)  to  continue  so  awhile.  I  hope  you  are  well  too.  You  may  be 
sure  I  was  very  glad  to  see  Mr.  Taylor,  and  that  he  was  most  cord- 
ially welcome  at  Haworth.  Please  to  tell  Mr.  Williams  that  I  dare  on  no 
account  to  come  to  London  till  he  is  friends  with  me,  which  I  am  sure 
he  cannot  be,  as  I  have  never  heard  from  him  for  nearly  three  months. 

*  Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  forward  the  enclosed  note  to  Dr. 
Forbes,  whose  address  I  do  not  know  ?  It  is  an  acknowledgment  of 
his  gift  of  his  little  book,  the  lecture,  which  I  like  very  much. 

'  I  am 
*  Yours  sincerely, 

*  George  Smith,  Esq.  '  C.  Bronte.* 

'May  12,  1851. 

*  My  dear  Sir,— I  fear  it  cannot  be  denied  that  Mr.  Thackeray  has 
actually  gone  and  written  a  poem.    The  whole  of  the  Mayday  Ode  is 


526 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


to  be  in  any  shop  where  the  lace  cloaks,  both  black  and 
white^  of  which  I  spoke,  were  sold,  to  ask  their  price.  I 
suppose  they  would  hardly  like  to  send  a  few  to  Haworth 

not  poetry — that  I  will  maintain  ;  it  opens  with  decent  prose — but  at 
the  fourth  stanza — **I  felt  a  thrill  of  love  and  awe" — it  begins  to 
swell ;  towards  the  middle  it  waxes  strong  and  rises  high,  takes  a 
tone  sustained  and  sweet,  fills  the  ear  with  music,  the  heart  with  glow 
and  expansion— becomes,  in  a  word,  poetry. 

*  Shame  and  sia  that  the  man  who  can  write  thus  should  write  thus 
so  seldom  ! 


'  Different  indeed  is  Mr.  Ruskin.  (I  have  read  the  Stones  of  Venice 
through.)  Thackeray  has  no  love  for  his  art  or  his  work;  he  neglects 
it  ;  he  mocks  at  it  ;  he  trifles  with  it.  Ruskin — for  his  art  and  his 
work — has  a  deep,  serious  passion.  We  smile  sometimes  at  Ruskin 's 
intense  earnestness  of  feeling  towards  things  that  can  feel  nothing  for 
him  in  return — for  instance,  when  he  breaks  out  in  an  apostrophe  to 
a  sepulchre,  "  O  pure  and  lovely  Monument — My  most  beloved  in 
Italy — that  land  of  Mourning  !" 

*  I  wondered  to  myself  once  or  twice  whether  there  would  be  any 
chance  of  hearing  Mr.  Ruskin's  lectures.  No  doubt  they  will  be 
blent  throughout  with  sarcasm  calculated  to  vex  one  to  the  heart ; 
but  still  just  out  of  curiosity,  one  would  like  to  know  what  he  will 
say. 

'  I  do  not  quite  understand  about  the  "  Guild  of  Literature,"  though 
I  have  seen  it  mentioned  in  the  papers  ;  you  must  be  kind  enough  to 
explain  it  better  when  I  see  you. 

'  Of  course  I  am  not  in  the  least  looking  forwards  to  going  to  London, 
nor  reckoning  on  it,  nor  allowing  the  matter  to  take  any  particular 
place  in  my  thoughts  ;  no,  I  am  very  sedulously  cool  and  nonchalant. 
Moreover  I  am  not  going  to  be  glad  to  see  anybody  there  ;  gladness 
is  an  exaggeration  of  sentiment  one  does  not  permit  oneself ;  to  be 
pleased  is  quite  enough — and  not  too  well  pleased  either,  only  with 
pleasure  of  a  faint,  tepid  kind,  and  to  a  stinted,  penurious  amount. 
Perhaps  when  I  see  your  mother  and  Mr.  Williams  again  I  shall  just 
be  able  to  get  up  a  weak  flicker  of  gratification,  but  that  will  be  all. 
From  even  this  effort  I  shall  be  exempt  on  seeing  you.  Authors  and 
publishers  are  never  expected  to  meet  with  any  other  than  hostile  feel- 
ings and  on  shy  and  distant  terms.  They  never  ought  to  have  to  shake 
hands ;  they  should  just  bow  to  each  other  and  pass  by  on  opposite 
sides,  keeping  several  yards  distance  between  them.  And  besides,  if 
obliged  to  communicate  by  post,  they  should  limit  what  they  have  to 


ia5i      PREPARING  FOR  A  VISIT  TO  LONDON  527 


to  be  looked  at ;  indeed,  if  they  cost  very  much  it  would 
be  useless,  but  if  they  are  reasonable  and  they  would  send 
them  I  should  like  to  see  them  ;  and  also  some  chemisettes 
of  small  size  (the  full  woman^s  size  don^t  fit  me),  both  of 
simple  style  for  every  day  and  good  quality  for  best.*  .  .  . 
^It  appears  I  could  not  rest  satisfied  when  I  was  well  off. 
I  told  you  I  had  taken  one  of  the  black  lace  mantles,  but 
when  I  came  to  try  it  with  the  black  satin  dress,  with  which 
I  should  chiefly  want  to  wear  it,  I  found  the  effect  was  far 

say  to  concise  notes  of  about  three  lines  apiece,  which  reminds  me  that 
this  is  too  long,  and  that  it  is  time  I  thanked  you  for  sending  the  divi- 
dend, and  begged  with  proper  form  to  be  permitted  to  subscribe  my- 
self '  Respectfully  yours, 

*  C.  Bronte. 

'  George  Smith,  Esq.* 

'May  20,  1851. 

'My  dear  Mrs.  Smith,— It  is  pleasant  to  hear  that  Mr.  Thackeray 
still  brings  a  lively  appetite  to  a  good  dinner  ;  I  did  not  know  whether 
his  nervous  anxiety  about  the  forthcoming  lectures  might  not  possibly 
have  impaired  it.  One  of  the  prettiest  sights  of  the  Exhibition,  I 
should  think,  would  be  to  see  Jacob  Omnium  conducting  hither  and 
thither  his  tiny  and  fragile  charge,  W.  M.  Thackeray,  Esq.  You  can 
keep  your  little  socks  for  Jacob  Omnium's  nurseling  if  you  like.  If 
they  are  too  large  one  might  (in  another  year's  time)  knit  a  smaller 
pair  for  the  purpose. 

'  If  all  be  well,  and  if  my  father  continues  in  his  present  satisfactory 
state  of  health,  I  shall  be  at  liberty  to  come  to  London  on  Wednesday 
week,  i.e.  the  29th.  I  will  not  say  much  about  being  glad  to  see  you 
all.  Long  ago,  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  I  received  a  somewhat  sharp 
lesson  on  the  duty  of  being  glad  in  peace  and  quietness,  in  fear  and 
moderation  ;  this  lesson  did  me  good,  and  has  never  been  forgotten. 

*  Should  there  be  any  objection  to  the  day  I  have  fixed,  you  will  be 
kind  enough  to  tell  me.  If  I  do  not  hear  from  you  I  shall  conclude 
that  it  is  approved.  I  should  come  by  the  express  train  which  arrives 
in  Euston  Square  at  10  p.m. 

*  With  kindest  regards— my  father's  as  well  as  my  own — to  you  and 
yours, 

*  I  am,  my  dear  Mrs.  Smith, 

*  Yours  very  sincerely, 
'Mrs.  Smith,  76  Gloucester  Terrace.'  *  ^'  Bronte. 

^  From  a  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  dated  April  12,  1851. 


528  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


from  good ;  the  beauty  of  the  lace  was  lost,  and  it  looked 
somewhat  brown  and  rusty  ;  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Stocks,  request- 
ing him  to  change  it  for  a  white  mantle  of  the  same  price  ; 
he  was  extremely  courteous  and  sent  to  London  for  one, 
which  I  have  got  this  morning*  The  price  is  less,  being 
but  1/.  145.  ;  it  is  pretty,  neat,  and  light,  looks  well  on 
black ;  and,  upon  reasoning  the  matter  over,  I  came  to  the 
philosophic  conclusion  that  it  would  be  no  shame  for  a  per- 
son of  my  means  to  wear  a  cheaper  thing ;  so  I  think  I  shall 
take  it,  and  if  you  ever  see  it  and  call  it  "^Hrumpery  "  so 
much  the  worse.  ^ 

'  Do  you  know  that  I  was  in  Leeds  on  the  very  same  day 
with  you — last  Wednesday  ?  I  had  thought  of  telling  you 
where  I  was  going,  and  having  your  help  and  company  in 
buying  a  bonnet,  &c.,  but  then  I  reflected  this  would  merely 
be  making  a  selfish  use  of  you,  so  I  determined  to  manage 
or  mismanage  the  matter  alone.  I  went  to  Hurst  &  Hall's 
for  the  bonnet,  and  got  one  which  seemed  grave  and  quiet 
there  amongst  all  the  splendours  ;  but  now  it  looks  infinitely 
too  gay  with  its  pink  lining.  I  saw  some  beautiful  silks  of 
pale  sweet  colours,  but  had  not  the  spirit  nor  the  means  to 
launch  out  at  the  rate  of  five  shillings  per  yard,  and  went 
and  bought  a  black  silk  at  three  shillings  after  all.  I  rather 
regret  this,  because  papa  says  he  would  have  lent  me  a  sov- 
ereign if  he  had  known.  I  believe,  if  you  had  been  there, 
you  would  have  forced  me  to  get  into  debt.'  ...  I  really 
can  no  more  come  to  Birstall  before  I  go  to  London  than  I 
can  fly.  I  have  quantities  of  sewing  to  do,  as  well  as  house- 
hold matters  to  arrange,  before  I  leave,  as  they  will  clean, 
&c.,  in  my  absence.  Besides,  I  am  grievously  afflicted 
wdth  the  headache,  which  I  trust  to  change  of  air  for  re- 
lieving ;  but  meantime,  as  it  proceeds  from  the  stomach,  it 
makes  me  very  thin  and  grey ;  neither  you  nor  anybody 
else  would  fatten  me  up  or  put  me  into  good  condition  for 

^  From  a  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  dated  April  23,  1851. 
2  Letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  dated  May  10,  1851. 


1851 


LETTER  TO  MR.  DOBELL 


529 


the  visit ;  it  is  fated  otherwise.  No  matter.  Calm  your  pas- 
sion ;  yet  I  am  glad  to  see  it.  Such  spirit  seems  to  prove 
health.    Good-bye,  in  haste. 

'  Your  poor  mother  is  like  Tabby,  Martha,  and  papa ;  all 
these  fancy  I  am  somehow,  by  some  mysterious  process,  to 
be  married  in  London,  or  to  engage  myself  to  matrimony. 
How  I  smile  internally !  How  groundless  and  improbable 
is  the  idea!  Papa  seriously  told  me  yesterday  that  if  I 
married  and  left  him  he  should  give  up  housekeeping  and 
go  into  lodgings  V  ^ 

I  copy  the  following,  for  the  sake  of  the  few  words  de- 
scribing the  appearance  of  the  heathery  moors  in  late  sum- 
mer : — 

TO  SYDi^EY  DOBELL,  ESQ. 

'  May  24,  1851. 

^My  dear  Sir, — I  hasten  to  send  Mrs.  Dobell  the  auto- 
graph. It  was  the  word  Album"  that  frightened  me  :  I 
thought  she  wished  me  to  write  a  sonnet  on  purpose  for  it, 
which  I  could  not  do. 

^Your  proposal  respecting  a  journey  to  Switzerland  is 
deeply  kind  ;  it  draws  me  with  the  force  of  a  mighty  Temp- 
tation, but  the  stern  Impossible  holds  me  back.  No !  I 
cannot  go  to  Switzerland  this  summer. 

^  Why  did  the  editor  of  the  ^'Eclectic"  erase  that  most 
powerful  and  pictorial  passage  ?  He  could  not  be  insen- 
sible to  its  beauty ;  perhaps  he  thought  it  profane.  Poor 
man ! 

^  I  know  nothing  of  such  an  orchard  country  as  you  de- 
scribe. I  have  never  seen  such  a  region.  Our  hills  only 
confess  the  coming  of  summer  by  growing  green  with 
young  fern  and  moss,  in  secret  little  hollows.  Their  bloom 
is  reserved  for  autumn  ;  then  they  burn  with  a  kind  of 
dark  glow,  different,  doubtless,  from  the  blush  of  garden 
blossoms.  About  the  close  of  next  month  I  expect  to  go 
to  London,  to  pay  a  brief  and  quiet  visit.    I  fear  chance 


1  Letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  dated  May  21,  1851. 


530  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


will  not  be  so  propitious  as  to  bring  yon  to  town  while  I  am 
there ;  otherwise  how  glad  I  should  be  if  yon  would  call ! 
With  kind  regards  to  Mrs.  Dobell,  believe  me  sincerely 
yours,  0.  Broote/ 

Her  next  letter  is  dated  from  London.* 

'June  2. 

came  here  on  Wednesday,  being  summoned  a  day 
sooner  than  I  expected,  in  order  to  be  in  time  for  Thack- 
eray^s  second  lecture,  which  was  delivered  on  Thursday 
afternoon.  This,  as  you  may  suppose,  was  a  genuine  treat 
to  me,  and  I  was  glad  not  to  miss  it.  It  was  given  in 
Willis's  Rooms,  where  the  Almack's  balls  are  held — a  great 
painted  and  gilded  saloon  with  long  sofas  for  benches.  The 
audience  was  said  to  be  the  cream  of  London  society,  and 
it  looked  so.  I  did  not  at  all  expect  the  great  lecturer 
would  know  me  or  notice  me  under  these  circumstances, 
with  admiring  duchesses  and  countesses  seated  in  rows  be- 
fore him ;  but  he  met  me  as  I  entered — shook  hands — took 
me  to  his  mother,  whom  I  had  not  before  seen,  and  intro- 
duced me.  She  is  a  fine,  handsome,  young-looking  old 
lady  ;  was  very  gracious,  and  called  with  one  of  her  grand- 
daughters next  day. 

^Thackeray  called,  too,  separately.  I  had  a  long  talk 
with  him,  and  I  think  he  knows  me  now  a  little  better 
than  he  did  ;  but  of  this  I  cannot  yet  be  sure ;  he  is  a  great 
and  strange  man.  There  is  quite  a  furore  for  his  lectures. 
They  are  a  sort  of  essays,  characterised  by  his  own  pecul- 
iar originality  and  power,  and  delivered  with  a  finished 
taste  and  ease,  which  is  felt,  but  cannot  be  described. 
Just  before  the  lecture  began  somebody  came  behind  me, 
leaned  over,  and  said,  Permit  me,  as  a  Yorkshire  man, 
to  introduce  myself.'^  I  turned  round,  saw  a  strange,  not 
handsome  face,  which  puzzled  me  for  half  a  minute,  and 

^  From  112  Gloucester  Terrace,  Hyde  Park.  It  was  written  to  EJUeu 
Nussey. 


1851       ^CURRER  BELL'  AT  WILLIS'S  ROOMS  531 


then  I  said,  ^'^You  are  Lord  Carlisle/' ^  He  nodded  and 
smiled ;  he  talked  a  few  minutes  very  pleasantly  and  cour- 
teously. 

^Afterwards  came  another  man  with  the  same  plea,  that 
he  was  a  Yorkshire  man,  and  this  turned  out  to  be  Mr. 
Monckton  Milnes.^  Then  came  Dr.  Forbes,  whom  I  was 
sincerely  glad  to  see.  On  Friday  I  went  to  the  Crystal 
Palace;^  it  is  a  marvellous,  stirring,  bewildering  sight — 
a  mixture  of  a  genii  palace  and  a  mighty  bazaar,  but  it 
is  not  much  in  my  way;  I  liked  the  lecture  better.  On 
Saturday  I  saw  the  Exhibition  at  Somerset  House;  about 
half  a  dozen  of  the  pictures  are  good  and  interesting,  the 
rest  of  little  worth.  Sunday — yesterday — was  a  day  to  be 
marked  with  a  white  stone  :  through  most  of  the  day  I  was 
very  happy,  without  being  tired  or  over-excited.  In  the 
afternoon  I  went  to  hear  D'Aubigne,  the  great  Protestant 
French  preacher;*  it  was  pleasant — half  sweet,  half  sad — 
and  strangely  suggestive,  to  hear  the  French  language 
once  more.  For  health,  I  have  so  far  got  on  very  fairly, 
considering  that  I  came  here  far  from  well.^ 

The  lady  who  accompanied  Miss  Bronte  to  the  lecture  of 
Thackeray^'s  alluded  to  says  that,  soon  after  they  had  taken 
their  places,  she  was  aware  that  he  was  pointing  out  her 
companion  to  several  of  his  friends,  but  she  hoped  that 
Miss  Bronte  herself  would  not  perceive  it.  After  some 
time,  however,  during  which  many  heads  had  been  turned 

^  This  Lord  Carlisle  was  George  William  Frederick  Howard,  7th 
Earl  (1802-1864).  He  won  the  Chancellor's  prize  for  Latin  verse,  and 
the  Newdegate  in  1821,  succeeded  his  father  in  the  earldom  in  1848, 
and  wrote  A  Diary  in  Turkish  and  Greek  Waters,  1853. 

2  Afterwards  Lord  Houghton  (1809-1885).  Wrote  Foe7ns  of  Ma7iy 
Tears  (1838),  Life  of  Keats  (1848),  and  other  works. 

2  It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Great  Exhibition  was  called  the 
Crystal  Palace,  and  that  the  building  was  at  this  time  in  Hyde  Park. 

^  Jean  Henri  Merle  d'Aubigne  (1794-1872)  was  pastor  of  the  French 
Protestant  Church  at  Hamburg.  He  wrote  a  History  of  the  Reforma- 
Hon  and  other  works. 


533 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


round,  and  many  glasses  put  up,  in  order  to  look  at  the 
author  of  ^  Jane  Eyre/  Miss  Bronte  said,  ^  I  am  afraid  Mr. 
Thackeray  has  been  playing  me  a  trick  /  but  she  soon  be- 
came too  much  absorbed  in  the  lecture  to  notice  the  atten- 
tion which  was  being  paid  to  her,  except  when  it  was  di- 
rectly offered,  as  in  the  case  of  Lord  Carlisle  and  Mr. 
Monckton  Milnes.  When  the  lecture  was  ended  Mr.  Thack- 
eray came  down  from  the  platform,  and  making  his  way 
towards  her  asked  her  for  her  opinion.  This  she  men- 
tioned to  me  not  many  days  afterwards,  adding  remarks 
almost  identical  with  those  which  I  subsequently  read  in 
^  Villette/  where  a  similar  action  on  the  part  of  M.  Paul 
Emanuel  is  related. 

^  As  our  party  left  the  Hall  he  stood  at  the  entrance ;  he 
saw  and  knew  me,  and  lifted  his  hat;  he  offered  his  hand 
in  passing,  and  uttered  the  words,  ^'Qu'en  dites-vous  — 
question  eminently  characteristic,  and  reminding  me,  even 
in  this  his  moment  of  triumph,  of  that  inquisitive  restless- 
ness, that  absence  of  what  I  considered  desirable  self-con- 
trol, which  were  amongst  his  faults.  He  should  not  have 
cared  just  then  to  ask  what  I  thought,  or  what  anybody 
thought ;  but  he  did  care,  and  he  was  too  natural  to  con- 
ceal, too  impulsive  to  repress,  his  wish.  Well !  if  I  blamed 
his  over-eagerness  I  liked  his  naivete,  I  would  have  praised 
him ;  I  had  plenty  of  praise  in  my  heart ;  but,  alas  !  no  words 
on  my  lips.  Who  has  words  at  the  right  moment  ?  I  stam- 
mered some  lame  expressions ;  but  was  truly  glad  when 
other  people,  coming  up  with  profuse  congratulations,  cov- 
ered my  deficiency  by  their  redundancy.^ 

As  they  were  preparing  to  leave  the  room  her  com- 
panion saw  with  dismay  that  many  of  the  audience  were 
forming  themselves  into  two  lines,  on  each  side  of  the 
aisle  down  which  they  had  to  pass  before  reaching  the 
door.  Aware  that  any  delay  would  only  make  the  ordeal 
more  trying,  her  friend  took  Miss  Bronte^s  arm  in  hers. 


1851        ^CURRER  BELL'  AT  WILLIS'S  ROOMS  533 


and  they  went  along  the  avenue  of  eager  and  admiring 
faces.  During  this  passage  through  the  ^  cream  of  so- 
ciety '  Miss  Bronte's  hand  trembled  to  such  a  degree  that 
her  companion  feared  lest  she  should  turn  faint  and  be 
unable  to  proceed ;  and  she  dared  not  express  her  sym- 
pathy or  try  to  give  her  strength  by  any  touch  or  word, 
lest  it  might  bring  on  the  crisis  she  dreaded. 

Surely  such  thoughtless  manifestation  of  curiosity  is  a 
blot  on  the  scutcheon  of  true  politeness  !  The  rest  of  the 
account  of  this  her  longest  visit  to  London  shall  be  told  in 
her  own  words.* 

^  In  a  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  dated  June  11,  1851. 

There  is  a  letter  from  Miss  BrontS  to  her  father,  dated  June  7,  and 
written  from  113  Gloucester  Terrace,  Hyde  Park  : — 

*  I  was  very  glad  to  hear  that  you  continued  in  pretty  good  health, 
and  that  Mr.  Cartman  came  to  help  you  on  Sunday.  I  fear  you 
will  not  have  had  a  very  comfortable  week  in  the  dining-room  ;  but 
by  this  time  I  suppose  the  parlour  reformation  will  be  nearly  com- 
pleted, and  you  will  soon  be  able  to  return  to  your  old  quarters.  The 
letter  you  sent  me  this  morning  was  from  Mary  Taylor.  She  contin- 
ues well  and  happy  in  New  Zealand,  and  her  shop  seems  to  answer 
well.  The  French  newspaper  duly  arrived.  Yesterday  I  went  for  the 
second  time  to  the  Crystal  Palace.  We  remained  in  it  about  three 
hours,  and  I  must  say  I  was  more  struck  with  it  on  this  occasion  tlian 
at  my  first  visit.  It  is  a  wonderful  place— vast,  strange,  new,  and  im- 
possible to  describe.  Its  grandeur  does  not  consist  in  one  thing,  but 
in  the  unique  assemblage  of  all  things.  Whatever  human  indus- 
try has  created  you  find  there,  from  the  great  compartments  filled 
with  railway  engines  and  boilers,  with  mill  machinery  in  full  work, 
with  splendid  carriages  of  all  kinds,  with  harness  of  every  descrip- 
tion, to  the  glass-covered  and  velvet-spread  stands  loaded  with  the 
most  gorgeous  work  of  the  goldsmith  and  silversmith,  and  the  care- 
fully guarded  caskets  full  of  real  diamonds  and  pearls  worth  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  pounds.  It  may  be  called  a  bazaar  or  a  fair, 
but  it  is  such  a  bazaar  or  fair  as  Eastern  genii  might  have  created. 
It  seems  as  if  magic  only  could  have  gathered  this  mass  of  wealth 
from  all  the  ends  of  the  earth — as  if  none  but  supernatural  hands 
could  have  arranged  it  thus,  with  such  a  blaze  and  contrast  of  col- 
ours and  marvellous  power  of  effect.  The  multitude  filling  the  great 
aisles  seems  ruled  and  subdued  by  some  invisible  influence.  Amongst 
the  thirty  thousand  souls  that  peopled  it  the  day  I  was  there  not  one 


534 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


^  I  sit  down  to  write  to  you  this  morning  in  an  inex- 
pressibly flat  state ;  having  spent  the  whole  of  yesterday 
and  the  day  before  in  a  gradually  increasing  headache, 
which  grew  at  last  rampant  and  violent,  ended  with  ex- 
cessive sickness,  and  this  morning  I  am  quite  weak  and 
washy.  I  hoped  to  leave  my  headaches  behind  me  at 
Haworth ;  but  it  seems  I  brought  them  carefully  packed 
in  my  trunk,  and  very  much  have  they  been  in  my  way 
since  I  came.  .  .  .  Since  I  wrote  last  I  have  seen  various 
things  worth  describing,  Rachel,  the  great  French  actress, 
amongst  the  number.  But  to-day  I  really  have  no  pith  for 
the  task.    I  can  only  wish  you  good-bye  with  all  my  heart. 

cannot  boast  that  London  has  agreed  with  me  well 
this  time ;  the  oppression  of  frequent  headache,  sickness,  and 
a  low  tone  of  spirits  has  poisoned  many  moments  which 
might  otherwise  have  been  pleasant.  Sometimes  I  have  felt 
this  hard,  and  have  been  tempted  to  murmur  at  Pate, 
which  compels  me  to  comparative  silence  and  solitude 
for  eleven  months  in  the  year,  and  in  the  twelfth,  while 
offering  social  enjoyment,  takes  away  the  vigour  and 
cheerfulness  which  should  turn  it  to  account.  But  cir- 
cumstances are  ordered  for  us,  and  we  must  submit.* 

loud  noise  was  to  be  heard,  not  one  irregular  movement  seen  ;  the  liv- 
ing tide  rolls  on  quietly,  with  a  deep  hum  like  the  sea  heard  from  the 
distance. 

*  Mr.  Thackeray  is  in  high  spirits  about  the  success  of  his  lect- 
ures. It  is  likely  to  add  largely  both  to  his  fame  and  purse.  He 
has,  however,  deferred  this  week's  lecture  till  next  Thursday,  at  the 
earnest  petition  of  the  duchesses  and  marchionesses,  who,  on  the  day 
it  should  have  been  delivered,  were  necessitated  to  go  down  with  the 
Queen  and  Court  to  Ascot  Races.  I  told  him  I  thought  he  did  wrong 
to  put  it  off  on  their  account,  and  I  think  so  still.  The  amateur  per- 
formance of  Bulwer's  play  for  the  Guild  of  Literature  has  likewise 
been  deferred  on  account  of  the  races.  I  hope,  dear  papa,  that  you, 
Mr.  Nicholls,  and  all  at  home  continue  well.  Tell  Martha  to  take  her 
scrubbing  and  cleaning  in  moderation  and  not  overwork  herself.  With 
kind  regards  to  her  and  Tabby.' 

^  This  sentence  is  from  a  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  dated  June  19, 
1851. 


1851 


THE  SIGHTS  OF  LONDON 


535 


^  Your  letter  ^  would  have  been  answered  yesterday,  but 
I  was  already  gone  out  before  post  time,  and  was  out  all 
day.  People  are  very  kind,  and  perhaps  I  shall  be  glad  of 
what  I  have  seen  afterwards,  but  it  is  often  a  little  trying 
at  the  time.  On  Thursday  the  Marquis  of  Westminster 
asked  me  to  a  great  party,  to  which  I  was  to  go  with  Mrs. 
D(avenport),  a  beautiful  and,  I  think,  a  kind  woman  too  ; 
but  this  I  resolutely  declined.  On  Friday  I  dined  at  the 
Shuttleworths'  and  met  Mrs.  D(avenport)  and  Mr.  Monck- 
ton  Milnes.  On  Saturday  I  went  to  hear  and  see  Kachel ; 
a  wonderful  sight  —  terrible  as  if  the  earth  had  cracked 
deep  at  your  feet,  and  revealed  a  glimpse  of  hell.  I  shall 
never  forget  it.  She  made  me  shudder  to  the  marrow  of 
my  bones;  in  her  some  fiend  had  certainly  taken  up  an 
incarnate  home.  She  is  not  a  woman  ;  she  is  a  snake ;  she 
is  the  .  On  Sunday  I  went  to  the  Spanish  Ambassa- 
dor's Chapel,  where  Cardinal  Wiseman,  in  his  archiepis- 
copal  robes  and  mitre,  held  a  confirmation.  The  whole 
scene  'was  impiously  theatrical.  Yesterday  (Monday)  I  was 
sent  for  at  ten  to  breakfast  with  Mr.  Rogers,  the  patriarch 
poet.  Mrs.  D(avenport)  and  Lord  Glenelg  were  there ;  no 
one  else  :  this  certainly  proved  a  most  calm,  refined,  and 
intellectual  treat.  After  breakfast  Sir  David  Brewster'^ 
came  to  take  us  to  the  Crystal  Palace.  I  had  rather 
dreaded  this,  for  Sir  David  is  a  man  of  profoundest  sci- 
ence, and  I  feared  it  would  be  impossible  to  understand 
his  explanations  of  the  mechanism,  &c.  ;  indeed,  I  hardly 
knew  how  to  ask  him  questions.  I  was  spared  all  the 
trouble :  without  being  questioned  he  gave  information  in 
the  kindest  and  simplest  manner.  After  two  hours  spent 
at  the  Exhibition,  and  where,  as  you  may  suppose,  I  was 
very  tired,  we  had  to  go  to  Lord  Westminster's  and  spend 

'  A  letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  dated  June  24,  1851. 
Sir  David  Brewster  (1781-1868).   Born  at  Jedburgh.   Was  knight- 
ed in  1832.    Published,  among  other  works,  a  Life  of  Newton  (1828) ; 
Letters  on  Natural  Magic  (1831) ;  More  Worlds  than  One  (1854). 


536 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


two  hours  more  in  lookiug  at  the  collection  of  pictures  in 
his  splendid  gallery/* 

*  Two  letters  to  her  father  from  London  (which  have  already  been 
printed)  cover  much  the  same  ground. 

*  112  Gloucester  Terrace,  Hyde  Park, 
'  Loudon  :  June  17,  1851. 

*  Dear  Papa, — I  write  a  line  in  haste  to  tell  you  that  I  find  they  will 
not  let  me  leave  London  till  next  Tuesday ;  and,  as  I  have  promised 
to  spend  a  day  or  two  with  Mrs.  Gaskell  on  my  way  home,  it  will 
probably  be  Friday  or  Saturday  in  next  week  before  I  return  to 
Haworth.  Martha  will  thus  have  a  few  days'  more  time,  and  must 
not  hurry  or  overwork  herself.  Yesterday  I  saw  Cardinal  Wiseman 
and  heard  him  speak.  It  was  at  a  meeting  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Society  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul ;  the  Cardinal  presided.  He  is  a  big, 
portly  man,  something  of  the  shape  of  Mr.  Morgan ;  he  has  not 
merely  a  double  but  a  treble  and  quadruple  chin  ;  he  has  a  very  large 
mouth  with  oily  lips,  and  looks  as  if  he  would  relish  a  good  dinner 
with  a  bottle  of  wine  after  it.  He  came  swimming  into  the  room 
smiling,  simpering,  and  bowing  like  a  fat  old  lady,  and  sat  down 
very  demure  in  his  chair  and  looked  the  picture  of  a  sleek  hypo- 
crite. He  was  dressed  in  black,  like  a  bishop  or  dean  in  plain 
clothes,  but  wore  scarlet  gloves  and  a  brilliant  scarlet  waistcoat. 
A  bevy  of  inferior  priests  surrounded  him,  many  of  them  very 
dark-looking  and  sinister  men.  The  Cardinal  spoke  in  a  smooth 
whining  manner,  just  like  a  canting  Methodist  preacher.  The  audi- 
ence seemed  to  look  up  to  him  as  to  a  god.  A  spirit  of  the  hottest 
zeal  pervaded  the  whole  meeting.  I  was  told  afterwards  that  except 
myself  and  the  person  who  accompanied  me  there  was  not  a  single 
Protestant  present.  All  the  speeches  turned  on  the  necessity  of  strain- 
ing every  nerve  to  make  converts  to  Popery.  It  is  in  such  a  scene 
that  one  feels  what  the  Catholics  are  doing.  Most  persevering  and 
enthusiastic  are  they  in  their  work  !  Let  Protestants  look  to  it.  It 
cheered  me  much  to  hear  that  you  continue  pretty  well.  Take  every 
care  of  yourself.  Remember  me  kindly  to  Tabby  and  Martha,  also  to 
Mr.  NichoUs,  and  believe  me,  dear  papa,  your  affectionate  daughter. 

*  C.  Bronte.' 

*  112  Gloucester  Terrace  : 
♦  June  26,  1851. 

*  Dear  Papa, — I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  get  away  from  London, 
but  if  all  be  well  I  shall  go  to-morrow,  stay  two  days  with  Mrs.  Gas- 
kell at  Mancnester,  and  return  home  on  Monday,  30th,  withmt fail. 
During  this  last  week  or  ten  days  I  have  seen  many  things,  some  of 


1851        VISIT  TO  THE  GREAT  EXHIBITION  537 


To  another  friend  ^  she  writes — 

'  Ellen  Nussey  may  have  told  you  that  I  have  spent  a 
month  in  London  this  summer.  When  you  come  you  shall 
ask  what  questions  you  like  on  that  point,  and  I  will  answer 
to  the  best  of  my  stammering  ability.  Do  not  press  me 
much  on  the  subject  of  the  Crystal  Palace."  I  went  there 
five  times,  and  certainly  saw  some  interesting  things,  and 
the  coup  d'ceil  is  striking  and  bewildering  enough ;  but  I 
never  was  able  to  get  up  any  raptures  on  the  subject,  and 
each  renewed  visit  was  made  under  coercion  rathan  than 
my  own  free  will.  It  is  an  excessively  bustling  place,  and, 
after  all,  its  wonders  appeal  too  exclusively  to  the  eye  and 

them  very  interesting,  and  have  also  been  in  much  better  health  than 
I  was  during  the  first  fortnight  of  my  stay  in  London.  Sir  James  and 
Lady  Shuttleworth  have  really  been  very  kind,  and  most  scrupulously 
atteniive.  They  desire  their  regards  to  you,  and  send  all  manner  of 
civil  messages.  The  Marquis  of  Westminster  and  the  Earl  of  EUes- 
mere  each  sent  me  an  order  to  see  their  private  collection  of  pictures, 
which  I  enjoyed  very  much.  Mr.  Rogers,  the  patriarch  poet,  now 
eighty-seven  years  old,  invited  me  to  breakfast  with  him.  His  break- 
fasts, you  must  understand,  are  celebrated  throughout  Europe  for 
their  peculiar  refinement  and  taste.  He  never  admits  at  that  meal  more 
than  four  persons  to  his  table — himself  and  three  guests.  The  morn- 
ing I  was  there  I  met  Lord  Glenelg  and  Mrs.  Davenport,  a  relation  of 
Lady  Shuttleworth's,  and  a  very  beautiful  and  fashionable  woman. 
The  visit  was  very  interesting;  I  was  glad  that  I  had  paid  it  after  it  was 
over.  An  attention  that  pleased  and  surprised  me  more,  I  think,  than 
any  other  was  the  circumstance  of  Sir  David  Brewster,  who  is  one  of 
the  first  scientific  men  of  his  day,  coming  to  take  me  over  the  Crystal 
Palace  aud  pointing  out  and  explaining  the  most  remarkable  curiosi- 
ties. You  will  know,  dear  papa,  that  I  do  not  mention  those  things 
to  boast  of  them,  but  merely  because  I  think  they  will  give  you  pleas- 
ure. Nobody,  I  find,  thinks  the  worse  of  me  for  avoiding  publicity 
and  declining  to  go  to  large  parties,  and  everybody  seems  truly 
courteous  and  respectful,  a  mode  of  behaviour  which  makes  me  grate- 
ful, as  it  ought  to  do.  Good-bye  till  Monday.  Give  my  best  regards 
to  Mr.  Nicholls,  Tabby,  and  Martha,  and  believe  me  your  affectionate 

'C.Bronte.' 

^  This  letter  was  written  to  Miss  Wooler,  and  is  dated  Haworth, 
July  14,  1851. 


538  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


rarely  touch  the  heart  or  head.  I  make  an  exception  to  the 
last  assertion^  in  favour  of  those  who  possess  a  large  range 
of  scientific  knowledge.  Once  I  went  with  Sir  David 
Brewster,  and  perceived  that  he  looked  on  objects  with 
other  eyes  than  mine.^ 

Miss  Bronte  returned  from  London  by  Manchester,  and 
paid  us  a  visit  of  a  couple  of  days  at  the  end  of  June.  The 
weather  was  so  intensely  hot,  and  she  herself  so  much  fa- 
tigued with  her  London  sight-seeing,  that  we  did  little  but 
sifc  indoors,  with  open  windows,  and  talk.  The  only  thing 
she  made  a  point  of  exerting  herself  to  procure  was  a  pres- 
ent for  Tabby.  It  was  to  be  a  shawl,  or  rather  a  large 
handkerchief,  such  as  she  could  pin  across  her  neck  and 
shoulders,  in  the  old-fashioned  country  manner.  Miss 
Bronte  took  great  pains  in  seeking  out  one  which  she 
thought  would  please  the  old  woman. 

On  her  arrival  at  home  she  addressed  the  following  let- 
ter to  the  friend  with  whom  she  had  been  staying  in  Lon- 
don : — 

'Haworth:  July  1,  1851. 
^  My  dear  Mrs.  Smith, — Once  more  I  am  at  home,  where, 
I  am  thankful  to  say,  I  found  my  father  very  well.  The 
journey  to  Manchester  was  a  little  hot  and  dusty,  but  other- 
wise pleasant  enough.  The  two  stout  gentlemen  who  filled 
a  portion  of  the  carriage  when  I  got  in  quitted  it  at  Rugby, 
and  two  other  ladies  and  myself  had  it  to  ourselves  the  rest 
of  the  way.  The  visit  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  formed  a  cheering 
break  in  the  journey.  Haworth  Parsonage  is  rather  a  con- 
trast ;  yet  even  Haworfch  Parsonage  does  not  look  gloomy 
in  this  bright  summer  weather ;  it  is  somewhat  still,  but 
with  the  windows  open  I  can  hear  a  bird  or  two  singing  on 
certain  thorn  trees  in  the  garden.  My  father  and  the 
servants  think  me  looking  better  than  when  I  left  home, 
and  I  certainly  feel  better  myself  for  the  change.  You  are 
too  much  like  your  son  to  render  it  advisable  I  should  say 
much  about  your  kindness  during  my  visit.    However,  one 


1851 


VISIT  TO  THE  AUTHOR 


539 


cannot  help  (like  Captain  Cuttle)  making  a  note  of  these 
matters.  Papa  says  I  am  to  thank  you  in  his  name,  and 
offer  you  his  respects,  which  I  do  accordingly. — With  truest 
regards  to  all  your  circle  believe  me  very  sincerely  yours, 

'C.  Brokte.'  1 

^  She  wrote  on  the  same  date  to  Mr.  George  Smith — 
*  After  a  month's  voyaging  I  have  cast  anchor  once  more— in  a  rocky 
and  lonely  little  cove,  no  doubt,  but  still  safe  enough.  The  visit  to 
Mrs.  Gaskell  on  my  way  home  let  me  down  easily  ;  though  I  only 
spent  two  days  with  her  they  were  very  pleasant.  She  lives  in  a  large, 
cheerful,  airy  house,  quite  out  of  Manchester  smoke  ;  a  garden  sur- 
rounds it,  and,  as  in  this  hot  weather  the  windows  were  kept  open,  a 
whispering  of  leaves  and  perfume  of  flowers  always  pervaded  the 
rooms.  Mrs.  Gaskell  herself  is  a  woman  of  whose  conversation  and 
company  I  should  not  soon  tire.  She  seems  to  me  kind,  clever,  ani- 
mated, and  unalfected  ;  her  husband  is  a  good  and  kind  man  too. 

'  I  went  to  church  by  myself  on  Sunday  morning  (they  are  Unita- 
rians). On  my  return  shortly  before  the  family  came  home  from  chapel 
the  servant  said  there  was  a  letter  for  me.  I  wondered  from  whom, 
not  expecting  my  father  to  write,  and  not  having  given  the  address 
elsewhere.  Of  course  I  was  not  at  all  pleased  when  the  small  problem 
was  solved  by  the  letter  being  brought ;  I  never  care  for  hearing  from 
you  the  least  in  the  world.  Comment  on  the  purport  of  your  note  is 
unnecessary.  I  am  glad,  yet  hardly  dare  permit  myself  to  congratu- 
late till  the  manuscript  is  fairly  created  and  found  to  be  worthy  of  the 
hand,  pen,  and  mind  whence  it  is  to  emanate.  This  promise  to  go 
down  into  the  country  is  all  very  well ;  yet  secretly  I  cannot  but  wish 
that  a  sort  of  ''chamber  in  the  wall  "  migiit  be  prepared  at  Cornhill, 
furnished  (besides  the  bed,  table,  stool,  and  candlestick  which  the 
Shunamite  "set"  for  Elisha)  with  a  desk,  pens,  ink,  and  paper. 
There  the  prophet  might  be  received  and  lodged,  subject  to  a  system 
kind  (perhaps)  yet  firm  ;  roused  each  morning  at  six  punctually,  by 
the  contrivance  of  that  virtuous  self-acting  couch  which  casts  from  it 
its  too  fondly  clinging  inmate  ;  served,  on  being  duly  arrayed,  with  a 
slight  breakfast  of  tea  and  toast ;  then,  with  the  exception  of  a  crust  at 
one,  no  further  gastronomic  interruption  to  be  allowed  till  7  p.m.,  at 
which  time  the  greatest  and  most  industrious  of  modern  authors  should 
be  summoned  by  the  most  spirited  and  vigilant  of  modern  publishers 
to  a  meal,  comfortable  and  comforting — in  short,  a  good  dinner — 
elegant,  copious,  convivial  (in  moderation) — of  which  they  should 
partake  together  in  the  finest  spirit  of  geniality  and  fraternity — part 
at  half-past  nine,  and  at  that  salutary  hour  withdraw  to  recreating  re- 


540 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


*  July  8,  1851. 

^My  dear  Sir^ — Thackeray^s  last  lectare  must,  I  think, 
have  been  his  best.    What  he  says  about  Sterne  is  true. 

pose.  Grand  would  be  the  result  of  such  a  system  pursued  for  six 
months. 

*  Somehow  I  quite  expect  that  you  will  let  me  see  my  "character," 
though  you  did  not  promise  that  you  would.  Do  not  keep  it  back  on 
account  of  my  faults  ;  remember  Thackeray  seems  to  think  our  faults 
the  best  part  of  us.  I  will  tell  you  faithfully  whether  it  seems  to  me 
true  or  not. 

*In  a  day  or  two  I  expect  to  be  quite  settled  at  home,  and  think  I 
shall  manage  to  be  quite  philosophic,  &c.  I  was  thankful  to  find  my 
father  very  well ;  he  said  that  when  I  wrote  I  was  to  give  his  best 
respects.' 

Mr.  Smith  forwarded  the  *  character '  immediately.  It  was  a  phreno- 
logical estimate  by  a  certain  Dr.  Browne,  whom  Miss  Bronte  had  visited 
at  his  Strand  office  ;  for  in  the  early  fifties  phrenology  was  as  fashion- 
able an  amusement  as  palmistry  is  to-day.  The  document,  of  which 
Mr.  George  Smith  preserved  a  copy,  ran  as  follows  : — 

*A  PHRENOLOGICAL  ESTIMATE  OF  THE  TALENTS  AND 
DISPOSITIONS  OF  A  LADY. 

*  Temperament  for  the  most  part  nervous.  Braia  large  ;  the  anterior 
and  superior  parts  remarkably  salient.  In  her  domestic  relations  this 
lady  will  be  warm  and  affectionate.  In  the  care  of  children  she  will 
evince  judicious  kindness,  but  she  is  not  pleased  at  seeing  them  spoiled 
by  over-indulgence.  Her  fondness  for  aoy  particular  locality  would 
chiefly  rest  upoa  the  associations  connected  with  it.  Her  attachments 
are  strong  and  enduring ;  indeed,  this  is  a  leading  element  of  her 
character.  She  is  rather  circumspect,  however,  in  the  choice  of  her 
friends,  and  it  is  well  that  she  is  so,  for  she  will  seldom  meet  with 
persons  whose  dispositions  approach  the  standard  of  excellence  with 
which  she  can  entirely  sympathise.  Her  sense  of  truth  and  justice 
would  be  offended  by  any  dereliction  of  duty,  and  she  would  in  such 
cases  express  her  disapprobation  with  warmth  and  energy.  She  would 
not,  however,  be  precipitate  in  acting  thus,  and  rather  than  live  in  a 
state  of  hostility  with  those  she  could  wish  to  love  she  would  depart 
from  them,  although  the  breaking  off  of  friendship  would  be  to  her  a 
source  of  great  unhappiness.  The  careless  and  unreflecting  whom  she 
would  labour  to  amend  might  deem  her  punctilious  and  perhaps  ex- 
acting, not  considering  that  their  amendment  and  not  her  own  gratifi- 
cation prompted  her  to  admonish.  She  is  sensitive,  and  is  very  anxious 


1 


1851 


A  PHRENOLOGICAL  ESTIMATE 


541 


His  observations  on  literary  men,  and  their  social  obligations 
and  individual  duties,  seem  to  me  also  true  and  full  of  mental 

to  succeed  ia  her  undertakings,  but  is  not  so  sanguine  as  to  the  proba- 
bility of  success.  She  is  occasionally  inclined  to  take  a  gloomier 
view  of  things  than  perhaps  the  facts  of  the  case  justify.  She  should 
guard  against  the  effect  of  this  where  her  affection  is  engaged,  for  her 
sense  of  her  own  impatience  is  moderate  and  not  strong  enough  to 
steel  her  against  disappointment.  She  has  more  firmness  than  self- 
reliance,  and  her  sense  of  justice  is  of  a  very  high  order.  She  is  defer- 
ential to  the  aged  and  those  she  deems  worthy  of  respect,  and  possesses 
much  devotional  feeling,  but  dislikes  fanaticism,  and  is  not  given  to  a 
belief  in  supernatural  things  without  questioning  the  probability  of 
their  existence. 

*  Money  is  not  her  idol ;  she  values  it  merely  for  its  uses.  She  would 
be  liberal  to  the  poor  and  compassionate  to  the  afflicted,  and  when 
friendship  calls  for  aid  she  would  struggle  even  against  her  own  in- 
terest to  impart  the  required  assistance;  indeed,  sympathy  is  a  marked 
characteristic  of  this  organisation. 

*  Is  fond  of  symmetry  and  proportion,  and  possesses  a  good  percep- 
tion of  form,  and  is  a  good  judge  of  colour.  She  is  endowed  with 
a  keen  perception  of  melody  and  rhythm.  Her  imitative  powers 
are  good,  and  the  faculty  which  gives  small  dexterity  is  well  devel- 
oped. These  powers  might  have  been  cultivated  with  advantage.  Is 
a  fair  calculator,  and  her  sense  of  order  and  arrangement  is  remark- 
ably good.  Whatever  this  lady  has  to  settle  or  arrange  will  be  done 
with  precision  and  taste. 

'  She  is  endowed  with  an  exalted  sense  of  the  beautiful  and  ideal, 
and  longs  for  perfection.  If  not  a  poet  her  sentiments  are  poetical, 
or  at  least  imbued  with  that  enthusiastic  grace  which  is  characteristic 
of  poetical  feeling.  She  is  fond  of  dramatic  literature  and  the  drama, 
especially  if  it  be  combined  with  music. 

*  In  its  intellectual  development  this  head  is  very  remarkable.  Tlie 
forehead  is  at  once  very  large  and  well  formed.  It  bears  the  stamp 
of  deep  thoughtfulness  and  comprehensive  understanding.  It  is  highly 
philosophical.  It  exhibits  the  presence  of  an  intellect  at  once  per- 
spicacious and  perspicuous.  There  is  much  critical  sagacity  and  fer- 
tility in  devising  resources  in  situations  of  difficulty ;  much  original- 
ity, with  a  tendency  to  speculate  and  generalise.  Possibly  this 
speculative  bias  may  sometimes  interfere  with  the  practical  efficiency 
of  some  of  her  projects.  Yet,  since  she  has  scarcely  an  adequate 
share  of  self-reliance,  and  is  not  sanguine  as  to  the  success  of  her 
plans,  there  is  reason  to  suppose  that  she  would  attend  more  closely 
to  particulars,  and  thereby  prevent  the  unsatisfactory  results  of  hasty 


543  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTJE 


and  moral  vigour.  1  .  .  .  The  International  Copyright  Meet- 
ing seems  to  have  had  but  a  barren  result^  judging  from 
the  report  in  the    Literary  Gazette/^    I  cannot  see  that 

generalisation.  Tiie  lady  possesses  a  fine  organ  of  language,  and  can, 
if  she  has  done  her  talents  justice  by  exercise,  express  her  sentiments 
with  clearness,  precision,  and  force — sufficiently  eloquent  but  not  ver- 
bose. In  learning  a  language  she  would  investigate  its  spirit  and 
structure.  The  character  of  the  German  language  would  be  well 
adapted  to  such  an  organisation.  In  analysing  the  motives  of  human 
conduct  this  lady  would  display  originality  and  power,  but  in  her 
mode  of  investigating  mental  science  she  would  naturally  be  imbued 
with  a  metaphysical  bias.  She  would  perhaps  be  sceptical  as  to  the 
truth  of  Gale's  doctrine  ;  but  the  study  of  this  doctrine,  this  new  sys- 
tem of  mental  philosopliy,  would  give  additional  strength  to  her  ex- 
cellent understanding  by  rendering  it  more  practical,  more  attentive 
to  particulars,  and  contribute  to  her  happiness  by  imparting  to  her 
more  correct  notions  of  the  dispositions  of  those  whose  acquaintance 
she  may  wish  to  cultivate.  ,  j  p  ^  jy 

'367  Strand: 
'June  29,  1851.' 

Mr.  George  Smith  would  seem  to  have  accompanied  Miss  Bronte  to 
the  phrenologist  under  the  pseudonym  and  disguise  of  'Mr.  Fraser.' 
He  must  have  sent  Miss  Bronte  his  own  '  character '  as  well  as  hers, 
for  in  a  letter  dated  July  2,  1851,  she  says— 

*  I  send  back  Mr.  Eraser's  character  by  return  of  post ;  but  I  have 
found  time  to  take  a  careful  and  exact  copy  of  the  same,  which  (D. V.) 
I  mean  to  keep  always.  I  wanted  a  portrait,  and  have  now  got  one 
very  much  to  my  mind.  With  the  exception  of  that  slight  mistake 
between  number  and  music,  and  the  small  vein  of  error  which  flows 
thence  through  the  character,  it  is  a  sort  of  miracle — like — like — like 
as  the  very  life  itself.  Destroy  Mr.  Ford's  lithograph.  Transfer  to 
fair  type  Dr.  Browne's  sketch,  and  frame  and  glaze  it  instead.  I  am 
glad  I  have  got  it.  I  wanted  it.  Yet  if  you  really  object  to  my  keep- 
ing this  copy  tell  me  to  burn  it,  and  I  will  burn  it ;  but  I  should  like 
to  keep  it,  and  will  show  it  to  nobody.' 

^  This  letter  is  to  Mr.  George  Smith :  the  omitted  sentence  runs  as 
follows:— 

'But  I  regret  that  a  lecture,  in  other  respects  so  worthy  of  his 
best  self,  should  not  take  a  more  masterly,  a  juster  view  of  the  old 
question  of  authors  and  booksellers.  Why  did  he  not  speak  as — I  know 
— he  thinks  on  this  subject  ?  Why,  in  treating  it,  did  he  talk  all  the 
worn-out  cant  now  grown  stale  and  commonplace  ?   I  feel  siire  Mr. 


1851 


A  WORD  OF  COUNSEL 


543 


Sir  E.  Bulwer  and  the  rest  did  anything  ;  nor  can  I  well 
see  what  it  is  in  their  power  to  do.  The  argument  brought 
forward  about  the  damage  accruing  to  American  national 
literature  from  the  present  piratical  system  is  a  good  and 
sound  argument ;  but  I  am  afraid  the  publishers — honest 
men — are  not  yet  mentally  prepared  to  give  such  reason- 
ing due  weight.  I  should  think  that  which  refers  to  the 
injury  inflicted  upon  themselves,  by  an  oppressive  competi- 
tion in  piracy,  would  influence  them  more ;  but  I  suppose 
all  established  matters,  be  they  good  or  evil,  are  difficult 
to  change.  About  the  ^^Phrenological  Character I  must 
not  say  a  word.  Of  your  own  accord  you  have  found  the 
safest  point  from  which  to  view  it ;  I  will  not  say  "  look 
higher  "  !  I  think  you  see  the  matter  as  it  is  desirable  we 
should  all  see  what  relates  to  ourselves.  If  I  had  a  right 
to  whisper  a  word  of  counsel,  it  should  be  merely  this  : 
whatever  your  present  self  may  be,  resolve  with  all  your 
strength  of  resolution  never  to  degenerate  thence.  Be 
jealous  of  a  shadow  of  falling  off.  Determine  rather  to 
look  above  that  standard,  and  to  strive  beyond  it.  Every- 
body appreciates  certain  social  properties,  and  likes  his 
neighbour  for  possessing  them ;  but  perhaps  few  dwell 
upon  a  friend's  capacity  for  the  intellectual,  or  care  how 
this  might  expand,  if  there  were  but  facilities  allowed  for 
cultivation,  and  space  given  for  growth.  It  seems  to  me 
that,  even  should  such  space  and  facilities  be  denied  by 

Thackeray  does  not  quite  respect  himself  when  he  runs  on  in  that  trite 
vein  of  abuse.  He  does  not  think  all  he  says.  He  knows  better  than 
from  his  inmost  heart  and  genuine  convictions  sweepingly  to  condemn 
a  whole  class.  There  may  be  radical  evils  in  the  system,  meeting  and 
courting  attack,  but  it  is  time  to  have  done  with  indefinable  clamour 
against  the  men,  and  to  cease  indiscriminate  aspersions  which  sound 
outrageous  but  mean  little.  Ere  long  Messrs.  Bungay  and  Bacon  will 
be  converted  into  true  martyrs  and  very  interesting  characters,  so  in- 
nocent and  so  wronged  that  in  spite  of  oneself  one  will  feel  obliged  to 
pity  and  vindicate  them.' 

^  '  About  Mr.  Eraser's  character '  are  the  words  in  the  original  letter 
— i.e.  Mr.  Smith's  '  character,'  as  told  by  Dr.  Browne,  the  phrenologist. 


544 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


stringent  circumstances  and  a  rigid  fate,  still  it  should  do 
you  good  fully  to  know,  and  tenaciously  to  remember,  that 
you  have  such  a  capacity.  When  other  people  overwhelm 
you  with  acquired  knowledge,  such  as  you  have  not  had 
opportunity,  perhaps  not  application,  to  gain — derive  not 
pride  but  support  from  the  thought.  If  no  new  books  had 
ever  been  written,  some  of  these  minds  would  themselves 
have  remained  blank  pages  :  they  only  take  an  impression  ; 
they  were  not  born  with  a  record  of  thought  on  the  brain, 
or  an  instinct  of  sensation  on  the  heart.  If  I  had  never 
seen  a  printed  volume.  Nature  would  have  offered  my  per- 
ceptions a  varying  picture  of  a  continuous  narrative,  which, 
without  any  other  teacher  than  herself,  would  have  schooled 
me  to  knowledge,  unsophisticated  but  genuine.^ 

'  Before  I  received  your  last  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to 
tell  you  that  I  should  expect  no  letter  for  three  months  to 
come  (intending  afterwards  to  extend  this  abstinence  to  six 
months,  for  I  am  jealous  of  becoming  dependent  on  this  in- 
dulgence :  you  doubtless  cannot  see  why  because  you  do  not 
live  my  life).  Nor  shall  I  now  expect  a  letter;  but  since 
you  say  that  you  would  like  to  write  now  and  then,  I  can- 
not say  never  write  without  imposing  on  my  real  wishes 
a  falsehood  which  they  reject,  and  doing  to  them  a  violence 
to  which  they  entirely  refuse  to  submit.  I  can  only  observe 
that  when  it  pleases  you  to  write,  whether  seriously  or  for 
a  little  amusement,  your  notes,  if  they  come  to  me,  will  come 

where  they  are  welcome.    Tell  I  will  try  to  cultivate 

good  spirits  as  assiduously  as  she  cultivates  her  geraniums.' 

^  The  letter  continues  here,  referring  of  course  to  Miss  Bronte's  own 
phrenological  character,  'About  the  ''lady's"  character  I  have  noth- 
ing to  say — not  a  word.  For  the  use  made  of  it  I  can  quite  trust  you, 
and  shall  neither  give  directions  nor  impose  restrictions.  Show  it  to 
Mr.  Williams  if  you  like,  but  tell  him  with  my  best  regards  on  no  ac- 
count when  he  reads  to  think  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  portraits.  If  there 
be  a  lack  of  shadow,  he  is  to  be  as  good  as  not  to  draw  attention  to 
that  fact,  but  kindly  to  supply  the  deficiency  out  of  his  own  artistic 
mind.  You  may  add  that  he  need  not  be  afraid  to  introduce  the  same 
{i.e.  the  shadow)  in  good  broad  masses,  the  "lady"  undertaking  to 
acknowledge  any  defect  of  a  not  unreasonably  heinous  dye.' 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


Soon  after  she  returned  home  her  friend  paid  her  a  visit. 
While  she  stayed  at  Haworth  Miss  Bronte  wrote  the  letter 
from  which  the  following  extract  is  taken.  The  strong 
sense  and  right  feeling  displayed  in  it  on  the  subject  of 
friendship  sufficiently  account  for  the  constancy  of  affection 
which  Miss  Bronte  earned  from  all  those  who  once  became 
her  friends : — 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ. 

'July  21,  1851. 

' .  .  .  I  could  not  help  wondering  whether  Cornhill  will 
ever  change  for  me,  as  Oxford  has  changed  for  you.  I  have 
some  pleasant  associations  connected  with  it  now ;  will  these 
alter  their  character  some  day  ? 

^  Perhaps  they  may,  though  I  have  faith  to  the  contrary, 
because,  I  tJmik,  I  do  not  exaggerate  my  partialities ;  I 
think  I  take  faults  along  with  excellences  —  blemishes  to- 
gether with  beauties.  And  besides,  in  the  matter  of  friend- 
ship, I  have  observed  that  disappointment  here  arises  chief- 
ly, not  from  liking  our  friends  too  well,  or  thinking  of  them 
too  highly,  but  rather  from  an  over-estimate  of  their  liking 
for  and  opinion  of  us  ;  and  that  if  we  guard  ourselves  with 
sufficient  scrupulousness  of  care  from  error  in  this  direction, 
and  can  be  content,  and  even  happy,  to  give  more  affection 
than  we  receive  —  can  make  just  comparison  of  circum- 
stances, and  be  severely  accurate  in  drawing  inferences 
thence,  and  never  let  self-love  blind  our  eyes — I  think  we 
may  manage  to  get  through  life  with  consistency  and  con- 
stancy, unembittered  by  that  misanthropy  which  springs 
from  revulsions  of  feeling.  All  this  sounds  a  little  meta- 
physical, but  it  is  good  sense  if  you  consider  it.  The  moral 
35 


646 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


of  it  is  that^  if  we  would  build  on  a  sure  foundation  in 
friendship,  we  must  love  our  friends  for  their  sakes  rather 
than  for  our  own;  we  must  look  at  their  truth  to  them- 
selves full  as  much  as  their  truth  to  us.  In  the  latter  case 
every  wound  to  self-love  would  be  a  cause  of  coldness  ;  in 
the  former  only  some  painful  change  in  the  friend's  charac- 
ter and  disposition — some  fearful  breach  in  his  allegiance 
to  his  better  self — could  alienate  the  heart. 

"^How  interesting  your  old  maiden  cousin^s  gossip  about 
your  parents  must  have  been  to  you  ;  and  how  gratifying 
to  find  that  the  reminiscence  turned  on  none  but  pleasant 
facts  and  characteristics !  Life  must  indeed  be  slow  in 
that  little  decaying  hamlet  amongst  the  chalk  hills.  After 
all,  depend  upon  it,  it  is  better  to  to  be  worn  out  with  work 
in  a  thronged  community  than  to  perish  of  inaction  in  a 
stagnant  solitude  :  take  this  truth  into  consideration  when- 
ever you  get  tired  of  work  and  bustle.* 

I  received  a  letter  from  her  a  little  later  than  this;  and 

'  There  is  a  letter  to  Mr.  George  Smith  dated  July  31,  1851  :  — 

*  As  I  sent  a  note  of  Miss  Martineau's  with  a  critique  of  Thackeray's 
last  lecture  in  it,  so  I  cannot  help  sending  one  just  received  from  Mrs. 
Gaskell,  that  you  may  compare  the  temper  and  judgment  of  the  two 
ladies.  This  letter  has  nothing  of  personal  interest  to  yourself,  noth- 
ing about  "my  Publishers"  (I  only  wish  it  had);  still  I  think  you 
will  like  to  read  opinions  so  justly  conceived  and  pleasantly  expressed  ; 
it  will  be  a  little  variety  on  your  usual  business  correspondence. 

'  I  wrote  to  Miss  Martineau  immediately  on  the  receipt  of  yours, 
communicating  the  full  assurance  you  gave  of  your  willingness  to 
publish  an  anonymous  work  from  her  pen,  and  quoting  your  own  ex- 
pression as  to  the  best  method  of  preserving  secrecy.  1  wish  she  may 
try  this  experiment,  but  as  far  as  the  mystery  goes,  I  apprehend  she 
will  betray  herself.  I  have  conjured  her  to  trust  no  more  confidants, 
but  I  fear  she  will  not  stop  at  me.  Should  I  hear  from  her  again 
on  the  subject,  I  will  let  you  know. 

*I  have  marked  with  red  ink  where  you  are  to  begin  Mrs.  G.'s  note; 
one  dare  not  again  put  an  index  hand,  you  are  too  sarcastic/ 

There  is  another  letter,  dated  August  4  : — 

'  I  send  Miss  Martineau's  letter  received  this  morning,  and  written 
for  your  perusal.    You  will  see  her  spirit  is  up,  and  I  hope  and  be- 


1851 


LETTER  TO  THE  AUTHOR 


547 


though  there  is  reference  throughout  to  what  I  must  have 
said  in  writing  to  her,  all  that  it  called  forth  in  reply  is  so 
peculiarly  characteristic  that  I  cannot  prevail  upon  myself 
to  pass  it  over  without  a  few  extracts : — 

*  Haworth :  August  6,  1851. 
^  My  dear  Mrs.  Gaskell, — I  was  too  much  pleased  with 
your  letter  when  I  got  it  at  last,  to  feel  disposed  to  mur- 
mur about  the  delay. 

lieve  she  will  do  work  worthy  of  her.  She  has  her  faults,  but  she 
has,  too,  a  fine  mind  and  noble  powers.  She  can  never  be  so  charm- 
ing a  woman  as  Mrs.  Gaskell,  but  she  is  a  greater  writer.  I  even  be- 
gin to  believe  her  emulation  may  be  so  wrought  upon  as  to  induce  her 
to  keep  the  secret.  You  see  you  will  have  to  write  to  her.  Her  pres- 
ent address  is  West  Cliff  House,  Norfolk. 

'  Surely  you  do  not  intend  to  let  this  summer  pass  without  giving 
yourself  a  holiday.  I  can  only  say  that  such  over-devotion  to  business 
would  be  wrong — suicidal — it  would  merit  punishment  more  than  the 
sly  peccadilloes  of  the  erring  Calcutta  bookseller.  Remember  you 
cannot  do  without  health  ;  it  is  your  best  ally  in  every  undertaking. 

*  Just  permit  me  to  say  this :  When  you  form  resolutions  about 
reading  beware  of  over-tasking.  Too  exacting  a  determination 
alarms  and  impedes  endeavour.  Sometimes  when  the  necessity  of 
reading  some  dry  and  very  solid  book  has  lain  heavy  on  my  conscience, 
I  have  found  that  by  setting  myself  to  study  it  only  for  an  hour  (or 
perhaps  in  your  case  half  an  hour)  each  day,  the  last  page  has  been 
reached  far  sooner  than  one  could  have  anticipated,  and  one  remem- 
bers it  well  too,  read  in  this  deliberate  way. 

'  Do  I  give  diminutive  doses  of  medicine  in  large  comfits  ?  I 
thought  I  retrenched  the  sugar  with  a  very  austere  hand  :  I  always 
intend  to  do  so. 

'  I  am  in  much  better  health  than  when  I  was  in  London,  during 
which  time  frequent  headaches  harassed  me  a  good  deal.  I  am  not, 
however,  on  good  terms  with  myself,  and  have  no  cause  to  be  so.  My 
pleasantest  thoughts  lie  in  the  hope  that  Mr.  Thackeray  and  Miss  Mar- 
tineau  will  each  write  a  good  book,  and  that  you,  they,  and  the  public 
will  find  therein  mutual  benefit  and  satisfaction. 

*  You  had  almost  got  another  hostile  manual  demonstration,  but  on 
the  whole  I  think  it  is  better  to  let  you  alone  ;  the  blows  you  inflict 
are  much  more  telling  than  those  you  receive.  1  see  plainly  Nature 
made  you  a  critic,  while  Fate  perversely  transformed  you  into  a  pub- 
lisher—in  her  rage  against  authors.' 


548 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


^  About  a  fortnight  ago  I  received  a  letter  from  Miss 
Martineau  :  a  long  letter^,  and  treating  precisely  the  same 
subjects  on  which  yours  dwelt,  viz.  the  Exhibition  and 
Thackeray^s  last  lecture.  It  was  interesting  mentally  to 
place  the  two  documents  side  by  side — to  study  the  two 
aspects  of  mind  —  to  view  alternately  the  same  scene 
through  two  mediums.  Full  striking  was  the  difference; 
and  the  more  striking  because  it  was  not  the  rough  con- 
trast of  good  and  evil,  but  the  more  subtle  opposition,  the 
more  delicate  diversity  of  different  kinds  of  good.  The 
excellences  of  one  nature  resembled  (I  thought)  that  of 
some  sovereign  medicine — harsh,  perhaps,  to  the  taste,  but 
potent  to  invigorate  ;  the  good  of  the  other  seemed  more 
akin  to  the  nourishing  efficacy  of  our  daily  bread.  It  is  not 
bitter;  it  is  not  lusciously  sweet ;  it  pleases  without  flatter- 
ing the  palate :  it  sustains  without  forcing  the  strength. 

^  I  very  much  agree  with  you  in  all  you  say.  For  the 
sake  of  variety  I  could  almost  wish  that  the  concord  of 
opinion  were  less  complete. 

^  To  begin  with  Trafalgar  Square.  My  taste  goes  with 
yours  and  Metals  completely  on  this  point.  I  have  al- 
ways thought  it  a  fine  site  (and  sight  also).  The  view 
from  the  summit  of  those  steps  has  ever  struck  me  as 
grand  and  imposing — Nelson  Column  included :  the  foun- 
tains I  could  dispense  with.  With  respect,  also,  to  the 
Crystal  Palace,  my  thoughts  are  precisely  yours. 

'  Then  I  feel  sure  you  speak  justly  of  Thackeray's  lect- 
ure. You  do  well  to  set  aside  odious  comparisons,  and  to 
wax  impatient  of  that  trite  twaddle  about  ^^nothing-new- 
ness " — a  jargon  which  simply  proves,  in  those  who  habitu- 
ally use  it,  a  coarse  and  feeble  faculty  of  appreciation ;  an 
inability  to  discern  the  relative  value  of  originality  and 
novelty  ;  a  lack  of  that  refined  perception  which,  dispens- 
ing with  the  stimulus  of  an  ever  new  subject,  can  derive 
sufficiency  of  pleasure  from  freshness  of  treatment.  To  such 
critics  the  prime  of  a  summer  morning  would  bring  no  de- 
light; wholly  occupied  with  railing  at  their  cook  for  not 


1S51 


LETTER  TO  THE  AUTHOR 


549 


having  provided  a  novel  and  piquant  breakfast  dish,  they 
would  remain  insensible  to  such  influences  as  lie  in  sun- 
rise, dew,  and  breeze  :  therein  would  be    nothing  new/^ 

^  Is  it  Mr.   's  family  experience  which  has  influenced 

your  feelings  about  the  Catholics  ?  I  own  I  cannot  be 
sorry  for  this  commencing  change.  Good  people  —  very 
good  people  — I  doubt  not,  there  are  amongst  the  Roman- 
ists, but  the  system  is  not  one  which  should  have  such 
sympathy  as  yours.  Look  at  Popery  taking  off  the  mask 
in  Naples  ! 

have  read  ^^The  Saint^s  Tragedy.^^^  As  a  ^^work  of 
art  it  seems  to  me  far  superior  to  either  Alton  Locke  ^' 
or  Yeast.^^  Faulty  it  may  be,  crude  and  unequal,  yet 
there  are  portions  where  some  of  the  deep  chords  of  human 
nature  are  swept  with  a  hand  which  is  strong  even  while  it 
falters.  We  see  throughout  (I  thinh)  that  Elizabeth  has 
not,  and  never  had,  a  mind  perfectly  sane.  From  the  time 
that  she  was  what  she  herself,  in  the  exaggeration  of  her 
humility,  calls  ^^an  idiot  girl,^^  to  the  hour  when  she  lay 
moaning  in  visions  on  her  dying  bed,  a  slight  craze  runs 
through  her  whole  existence.  This  is  good  :  this  is  true. 
A  sound  mind,  a  healthy  intellect,  would  have  dashed  the 
priest  power  to  the  wall ;  would  have  defended  her  natural 
affections  from  his  grasp,  as  a  lioness  defends  her  young ; 
would  have  been  as  true  to  husband  and  children  as  your 
leal-hearted  little  Maggie  was  to  her  Frank.  Only  a  mind 
weak  with  some  fatal  flaw  could  have  been  influenced  as 
was  this  poor  saint^s.  But  what  anguish — what  struggles! 
Seldom  do  I  cry  over  books,  but  here  my  eyes  rained  as  I 
read.  When  Elizabeth  turns  her  face  to  the  wall  —  I 
stopped — there  needed  no  more. 

'  Deep  truths  are  touched  on  in  this  tragedy — touched 
on,  not  fully  elicited  —  truths  that  stir  a  peculiar  pity,  a 
compassion  hot  with  wrath  and  bitter  with  pain.    This  is 

^  The  Sain  f  8  Tragedy  ;  or,  the  True  Story  of  Elizabeth  of  Hungary, 
by  Cliarles  Kingsley,  was  published  in  1848. 


550  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


no  poet^s  dream  :  we  know  that  such  things  have  been  done; 
that  minds  have  been  thus  subjected,  and  lives  thus  laid 
waste. 

^  Remember  me  kindly  and  respectfully  to  Mr.  Gaskell, 
and  though  I  have  not  seen  Marianne  I  must  beg  to  include 
her  in  the  love  I  send  the  others.  Could  you  manage  to 
convey  a  small  kiss  to  that  dear  but  dangerous  little  person 
Julia  ?  She  surreptitiously  possessed  herself  of  a  minute 
fraction  of  my  heart,  which  has  been  missing  ever  since  I 
saw  her.    Believe  me  sincerely  and  affectionately  yours, 

'  C.  Bronte.' 

The  reference  which  she  makes  at  the  end  of  this  let- 
ter is  to  my  youngest  little  girl,  between  whom  and  her 
a  strong  mutual  attraction  existed.  The  child  would  steal 
her  little  hand  into  Miss  Bronte^'s  scarcely  larger  one,  and 
each  took  pleasure  in  this  apparently  unobserved  caress. 
Yet  once,  when  I  told  Julia  to  take  and  show  her  the  way 
to  some  room  in  the  house,  Miss  Bronte  shrank  back :  ^Do 
not  iid  her  do  anything  for  me,'  she  said  ;  ^  it  has  been  so 
sweet  hitherto  to  have  her  rendering  her  little  kindnesses 
spontaneously.^ 

As  illustrating  her  feelings  with  regard  to  children,  I 
may  give  what  she  says  in  another  of  her  letters  to  me. 

^Whenever  I  see  Florence  and  Julia  again  I  shall  feel 
like  a  fond  but  bashful  suitor,  who  views  at  a  distance  the 
fair  personage  to  whom,  in  his  clownish  awe,  he  dare  not 
risk  a  near  approach.  Such  is  the  clearest  idea  I  can  give 
you  of  my  feeling  towards  children  I  like,  but  to  whom  I 
am  a  stranger.  And  to  what  children  am  I  not  a  stranger  ? 
They  seem  to  me  little  wonders ;  their  talk,  their  ways  are 
all  matter  of  half  admiring,  half  puzzled  speculation.'^ 

^  On  August  9  she  writes  to  Mr.  George  Smith — 

*  Enclosed  is  a  letter  from  Miss  Martineau  to  you.  I  think  you  will 
like  its  clearness  and  candour,  and  you  will  see  that  though  she  con- 
siders her  own  interest  on  the  subject  of  terms,  yet  she  brings  to  the 


1S51 


LETTER  TO  MR.  GEORGE  SMITH 


551 


The  following  is  part  of  a  long  letter  which  I  received 
from  her,  dated  September  20,  1851: — 

^.  .  .  Beautiful  are  those  sentences  out  of  James  Mar- 
tineau^s  sermons ;  some  of  them  gems  most  pure  and 
genuine ;  ideas  deeply  conceived,  finely  expressed.  I  should 

discussion  of  that  question  none  of  the  worldly,  bargaining  spirit  by 
which  I  fear  some  minds  of  otherwise  first-rate  calibre  are  apt  to  lower 
their  business  transactions. 

'  In  reference  to  what  she  says  about  myself,  I  need  hardly  add 
that  it  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  be  useful  to  either  you 
or  her  in  this  matter  ;  but  it  is  well  you  do  not  acknowledge  the 
"favour  I  have  conferred  in  introducing  you  to  Miss  M."  I  here- 
by wash  my  hands  of  that  charge.  It  was  not  I  who  did  it.  Fate 
managed  the  whole  business,  and,  you  see,  she  has  known  your 
firm  of  old.  I  trust,  with  you,  that  there  is  no  fear  of  her  touch- 
ing on  religious  subjects;  "a  burnt  child  dreads  the  tire,"  and 
though  she  is  too  stoical  to  cry  out  I  cannot  doubt  that  she  has 
been  well  scorched  of  late. 

'  You  must  not  be  too  sanguine  about  the  book  ;  for  though  it 
seems  to  me  there  are  grounds  for  anticipating  that  she  will  pro- 
duce something  superior  to  what  she  has  yet  written  in  the  same 
class,  yet  perhaps  the  nature  and  bent  of  her  genius  hardly  warrant 
the  expectation  of  first-rate  excellence  in  fiction.  She  seems  to  be 
suffering  from  some  sense  of  constraint  from  the  idea  of  continued 
obligations  to  keep  the  secret  ;  perhaps  when  you  write  to  her  again 
it  may  be  as  well  to  mention  your  own  ideas  on  this  point.  I  mean 
to  say,  how  far  do  you  think  it  desirable  and  important  ?  Secret- 
keeping  does  not  agree  with  her  at  all.  I  cannot  help  smiling  at  the 
kind  of  little  bustle  she  makes  about  it. 

'  I  return  the  copy  of  your  letter  to  Miss  M.  Orthography  blame- 
less.   Composition  well  turned. 

*  It  was  kind  of  you  to  write  that  last  letter  ;  I  could  hardly  believe 
when  I  opened  it  that  it  was  all  for  me.  The  "  medicine,"  by  the  by, 
was  accepted  with  a  grace  beyond  all  praise,  and  now,  perhaps,  I  may 
venture  to  confess  that  after  I  had  written  that  P.S.  and  sent  the  let- 
ter off  some  severe  qualms  came  over  me  as  to  whether  I  had  not 
taken  a  small  liberty.  "It  is  true,"  I  argued  with  myself,  "Mr.  Fra- 
ser  has  been  pronounced  on  authority  to  be  without  a  tincture  of  ar- 
rogance in  his  nature,*'  but  then,  again,  the  same  oracle  describes  him 
as  "  very  sensitive  ;"  it  says,  "  His  feelings  are  easily  wounded,"  and 
though,  for  my  consolation,  it  adds,  "  He  is  of  a  forgiving  temper," 


552 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


like  much  to  see  his  review  of  his  sister's  book.  Of  all  the 
articles  respecting  which  you  question  me  I  have  seen  none, 
except  that  notable  one  in  the  ^^Westminster"'  on  the 
Emancipation  of  Women.  But  why  are  you  and  I  to 
think  (perhaps  I  should  rather  say  to  feel)  so  exactly  alike 
on  some  points  that  there  can  be  no  discussion  between  us? 
Your  words  on  this  paper  express  my  thoughts.  Well  ar- 
gued it  is — clear,  logical — but  vast  is  the  hiatus  of  omis- 
sion ;  harsh  the  consequent  jar  on  every  finer  chord  of  the 
soul.  What  is  this  hiatus  ?  I  think  I  know ;  and  know- 
ing, I  will  venture  to  say.  I  think  the  writer  forgets  there 
is  such  a  thing  as  self-sacrificing  love  and  disinterested  de- 
votion. ...  I  believe  J.  S.  Mill  would  make  a  hard,  dry, 
dismal  world  of  it:  and  yet  he  speaks  admirable  sense 
through  a  great  portion  of  his  article,  especially  when  he 
says  that  if  there  be  a  natural  unfitness  in  women  for  men's 
employment  there  is  no  need  to  make  laws  on  the  subject ; 
leave  all  careers  open  ;  let  them  try  ;  those  who  ought  to 
succeed  will  succeed,  or,  at  least,  will  have  a  fair  chance  ; 

yet  every  sensible  person  knows  that  this  is  a  quality  which  ought 
never  to  be  trifled  with  or  tried  too  far.  However  "all's  well  that 
ends  well."  Mr.  Fraser  kindly  understood  me,  for  which  I  beg  to 
tell  him  I  am  grateful  ;  it  is  pleasant  to  be  understood. 

*  The  incident  at  the  Guild  Performance  amused  me  ;  it  was  one  of 
those  occasions  which,  while  startling  people  out  of  their  customary 
smooth  bearing,  elicit  genuine  touches  of  character.  Mr.  Fraser  and 
the  panic-struck  young  lady  both  revealed  themselves  according  to 
their  different  natures.    It  is  easy  to  realise  the  scene. 

'  You  sent  about  a  fortnight  since  a  volume  of  London  Labour, 
&c.  (a  curiously  interesting  book  to  read)  ;  to-day  you  have  sent  Mr. 
Ruskin's  pamphlet.    What  can  one  say  ? 

*  I  hope  your  mother  and  sisters  and  Alick  are  all  enjoying  them- 
selves by  the  seaside  this  fine  weather ;  doubtless  they  wish  that 
you  shared  their  enjoyment,  but  it  seems  as  if  the  circle  of  happi- 
ness were  rarely  to  be  complete  in  this  world  ;  however,  as  long 
as  you  have  good  health,  cheerful  spirits,  as  long  too  as  your  op- 
erations are  animated  and  rewarded  by  reasonable  success,  there 
will  be  abundant  cause  for  satisfaction  to  those  and  all  who  wish  you 
well.' 


1851 


LETTER  TO  THE  AUTHOR 


553 


the  incapable  will  fall  back  into  their  right  place.  He  like- 
wise disposes  of  the  maternity  "  question  very  neatly.  .  .  . 
You  are  right  when  you  say  that  there  is  a  large  margin  in 
human  nature  over  which  the  logicians  have  no  dominion  ; 
glad  am  I  that  it  is  so.* 

'  I  send  by  this  post  Ruskin's  Stones  of  Venice/^  and  I 
hope  you  and  Meta  will  find  passages  in  it  that  will 
please  you.  Some  parts  would  be  dry  and  technical  were 
it  not  for  the  character,  the  marked  individuality,  which 
pervades  every  page.  I  wish  Marianne  had  come  to  speak 
to  me  at  the  lecture ;  it  would  have  given  me  such  pleasure. 
What  you  say  of  that  small  sprite  Julia  amuses  me  very 
much.  I  believe  you  don't  know  that  she  has  a  great  deal 
of  her  mamma's  nature  (modified)  in  her,  yet  I  think  you 
will  find  she  has  as  she  grows  up. 

'  Will  it  not  be  a  great  mistake  if  Mr.  Thackeray  should 
deliver  his  lectures  at  Manchester  under  such  circum- 
stances and  conditions  as  will  exclude  people  like  you  and 
Mr.  Gaskell  from  the  number  of  his  audience  ?  I  thought 
his  London  plan  too  narrow.  Charles  Dickens  would  not 
thus  limit  his  sphere  of  action. 

^  You  charge  me  to  write  about  myself.  What  can  I  say 
on  that  precious  topic  ?  My  health  is  pretty  good.  My 
spirits  are  not  always  alike.  Nothing  happens  to  me.  I 
hope  and  expect  little  in  this  world,  and  am  thankful  that 
I  do  not  despond  and  suffer  more.  Thank  you  for  inquir- 
ing after  our  old  servant ;  she  is  pretty  well  ;  the  little 
shawl,  &c.,  pleased  her  much.    Papa  likewise,  I  am  glad 

'  Mr.  J.  S.  Mill,  in  a  letter  upon  this  passage,  says,  *  I  am  not  the 
author  of  the  article.  I  may  claim  to  be  its  editor ;  and  I  should  be 
proud  to  be  identified  with  every  thought,  every  sentiment,  and  every 
expression  in  it.  The  writer  is  a  woman,  and  the  most  warm-hearted 
woman,  of  the  largest  and  most  genial  sympathies,  and  the  most  for- 
getful of  self  in  her  generous  zeal  to  do  honour  to  others,  whom  I 
have  ever  known     {Note  hy  Mrs.  Gaskell), 


*  John  Stuart  Mill  (1806-1873)  married  in  1851  Mrs.  John  Taylor, 
the  writer  of  the  article  referred  to. 


554 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


to  say,  is  pretty  well;  with  his  and  my  kindest  regards  to 
you  and  Mr.  Gaskell,  believe  me  sincerely  and  affection- 
ately yours^  0.  Broote/ 

Before  the  autumn  was  far  advanced  the  usual  effects  of 
her  solitary  life,  and  of  the  unhealthy  situation  of  Haworth 
Parsonage,  began  to  appear  in  the  form  of  sick  headaches 
and  miserable,  starting,  wakeful  nights.  She  does  not 
dwell  on  this  in  her  letters  ;  but  there  is  an  absence  of  all- 
cheerfulness  of  tone,  and  an  occasional  sentence  forced  out 
of  her,  which  imply  far  more  than  many  words  could  say. 
There  was  illness  all  through  the  Parsonage  household — 
taking  its  accustomed  forms  of  lingering  influenza  and  low 
fever ;  she  herself  was  outwardly  the  strongest  of  the  fam- 
ily, and  all  domestic  exertion  fell  for  a  time  upon  her 
shoulders.* 

^  There  is  a  letter  to  Mr.  George  Smith  dated  September  8,  1851 : — 

'  I  must  summon  courage  to  write  a  line  ;  besides  the  vision  of  Mr. 
Thackeray  rising  up,  grand,  with  the  laurel  of  Tasso  about  his  brows, 
would  rouse  one  out  of  a  dead  trance.  Has  he  seen  himself  in  this 
stately  Italian  garb,  and  does  he  like  it  ? 

'  Under  the  circumstances  it  is  rather  a  singular  coincidence  that  the 
same  number  of  the  Rivista  Britannica  should  contain  a  translation  of 
one  of  Miss  Martineau's  tales,  ''The  Feats  of  the  Fiords."  Enrichetta 
Marti neau  and  Gnglielmo  Thackeray  seem  unconsciously  matched 
against  each  other. 

'  I  see  from  the  Leader  it  is  now  generally  known  that  Mr.  Thack- 
eray is  at  work  on  a  new  novel.  It  was  wise  of  him  to  leave  England 
to  write  it:  I  do  hope  it  will  prove  a  masterpiece. 

'The  "John  Drayton"  paragraph  is  a  manoeuvre  worthy  of  the 
publisher  of  the  Baroness  wn  Beck's  Memoirs.  The  book,  it  appears,  is 
announced  in  conspicuous  type  as  if  it  were  to  be  something  special. 
From  the  title  I  am  inclined  to  expect  an  imitation  of  Mary  Barton  ; 
it  sounds  as  if  it  were  intended  to  belong  to  that  school ;  but  one 
ought  not  to  judge  from  a  title.  I  leave  in  your  hands  the  treatment 
of  all  false  rumours  in  which  Currer  Bell  is  concerned.  Currer  Bell 
has  one  publisher,  and  that  is  not  Mr.  Bentley  nor  Mr.  Colburn. 

*  I  ought  not  to  forget,  and  indeed  have  not  forgotten,  that  your 
last  propounds  to  this  same  Currer  Bell  a  question  about  a  "serial." 
My  dear  Sir,  give  Currer  Bell  the  experience  of  a  Thackeray  or  the 


1851 


LETTER  TO  MR.  GEORGE  SMITH  555 


TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ. 

*  September  26. 

^  As  I  laid  down  your  letter,  after  reading  with  interest 
the  graphic  account  it  gives  of  a  very  striking  scene,  I  could 
not  help  feeling  with  renewed  force  a  truth,  trite  enough, 

aDimal  spirit  of  a  Dickens,  and  then  repeat  the  question.  Even  then 
he  would  answer,  "  I  will  publish  no  serial  of  which  the  last  number 
is  not  written  before  the  first  comes  out."  At  present  he  would  mere- 
ly say  that  it  is  not  worth  your  while  to  think  of  him. 

'  I  am  glad  you  like  the  early  rising  on  cold  water  system  as  pre- 
scribed by  Miss  Martineau.  You  must  be  sure  and  try  it,  first  on 
yourself,  and  then  you  must  coax  Mr.  Thackeray  as  one  of  the  "au- 
thors with  whom  you  have  influence  "  to  adopt  it.  Nothing  can  be 
better  suited  to  the  Portly  Classes,"  like  the  ''Trade;"  nor,  perhaps, 
to  the  Anakim  of  Intellect,  such  as  Miss  Martineau  and  Mr.  Thack- 
eray. But  never  mind  the  small  fry,  the  wretched,  thin,  undersized 
scribblers  ;  that  winter  morning  walk  by  frosty  starlight,  that  ice-cold 
bath  and  three  tumblers  of  cold  water  would  extinguish  us  altogether; 
and  "  Small  loss,"  you  would  remark.  Well,  I  incline  to  think  so 
too.* 

There  is  a  further  letter  to  Mr.  Smith  dated  September  22,  1851  :— 

•  I  am  sure  I  am  not  low-spirited  just  now,  but  very  happy,  and  in 
this  mood  I  will  write  to  you. 

'  That  enclosed  copy  of  a  letter  (ought  I  to  return  it  ?)  gave  me  great 
pleasure  ;  it  is  comforting  to  be  useful  ;  it  is  pleasant  to  see  a  sprout- 
ing greeimess  where  seed  has  been  sown.  I  doubt  not  my  well-inten- 
tioned preface  remarks  have  ere  this  brought  on  you  and  Mr.  Williams 
the  annoyance  of  accumulated  rubbish,  and  it  would  be  hard  indeed 
if  amongst  all  the  chaff  should  not  now  and  then  occur  a  few  grains  of 
wheat.  I  trust  this  may  be  the  case  in  the  present  instance  ;  I  wish 
that  from  these  grains  may  spring  a  promising  crop. 

*  Can  I  help  wishing  you  well  when  I  owe  you  directly  or  indirectly 
most  of  the  good  moments  I  now  enjoy  ?  Or  can  I  avoid  feeling 
grieved — mortified — when  the  chance  of  aiding  to  give  effect  to  my 
own  wishes  offers  itself  and,  for  want  of  strength,  vitality,  animal 
spirits,  I  know  not  what  in  me,  passes  by  unimproved  ?  Oh,  that 
serial  !  It  is  of  no  use  telling  you  what  a  storm  in  a  teacup  the  men- 
tion of  it  stirred  in  Cnrrer  Bell's  mind,  what  a  fight  he  had  with  him- 
self about  it.  You  do  not  know,  you  cannot  know,  how  strongly  his 
nature  inclines  him  to  adopt  suggestions  coming  from  so  friendly  a 
quarter  ;  how  he  would  Hke  to  lake  them  up,  cherish  them,  give  them 


556 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


yet  ever  impressive,  viz.  that  it  is  good  to  be  attracted  out 
of  ourselves,  to  be  forced  to  take  a  near  view  of  the  suffer- 
ings, the  privations,  the  efforts,  the  difficulties  of  others. 
If  we  ourselves  live  in  fnlness  of  content,  it  is  well  to  be 
reminded  that  thousands  of  our  fellow  creatures  undergo  a 
different  lot ;  it  is  well  to  have  sleepy  sympathies  excited, 
and  lethargic  selfishness  shaken  up.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
we  be  contending  with  the  special  grief — the  intimate  trial 
— the  peculiar  bitterness  with  which  God  has  seen  fit  to 
mingle  our  own  cup  of  existence,  it  is  very  good  to  know 
that  our  overcast  lot  is  not  singular ;  it  stills  the  repining 

form,  conduct  them  to  a  successful  issue;  and  how  sorrowfully  he 
turns  away,  feeling  in  his  inmost  heart  that  this  work,  this  pleasure  is 
not  for  him. 

'  But  though  Currer  Bell  cannot  do  this  you  are  still  to  think  him 
your  friend,  and  you  are  still  to  be  Ms  friend.  You  are  to  keep  a 
fraction  of  yourself — if  it  be  only  the  end  of  your  little  finger— for 
Mm,  and  that  fraction  he  will  neither  let  gentleman  or  lady,  author  or 
artist,  not  even  Miss  McCrowdie  (the  Scotch  gentlewoman  whose  por- 
trait you  so  graphically  depict),  take  possession  of,  or  so  much  as 
meddle  with.  He  reduces  his  claim  to  a  minute  point,  and  that  point 
he  monopolises. 

'  I  won't  say  I  don't  rather  like  Miss  Girzy  McCrowdie.  I  believe 
one  might  get  on  with  her  pretty  well. '  After  all,  depend  on  it,  there 
would  be  a  rude  sort  of  worth  in  her. 

*  What  is  it  you  say  about  my  breaking  the  interval  between  this 
and  Christmas  by  going  from  home  for  a  week  ?  No  ;  if  there  were 
no  other  objection  (and  there  are  many)  there  is  the  pain  of  that  last 
bidding  good-bye,  that  hopeless  shaking  hands,  yet  undulled  and  un- 
forgotten.  I  don't  like  it.  I  could  not  bear  its  frequent  repetition. 
Do  not  recur  to  this  plan.  Going  to  London  is  a  mere  palliation  and 
stimulant :  reaction  follows. 

•  Meantime  I  really  do  get  on  very  well ;  not  always  alike,  and  I 
have  been  at  intervals  despondent ;  but  Providence  is  kind,  and  hither- 
to whenever  depression  passes  a  certain  point  some  incident  transpires 
to  turn  the  current,  to  lighten  the  load  ;  a  cheering  sunrise  so  far  ever 
followed  a  night  of  peculiar  vigil  and  fear.  Hope,  indeed,  is  not  a  plant 
to  flourish  very  luxuriantly  in  this  northern  climate,  but  still  it  throws 
out  fresh  leaves  and  a  blossom  now  and  then,  proving  that  it  is  far 
from  dead  ;  and  as  for  Fortitude,  Miss  McCrowdie  herself  will  tell  you 
what  tenacious  roots  that  shrub  twines  in  a  stony,  moorish  soil.' 


1S51 


SOCIAL  PROBLEMS 


557 


word  and  thought — it  rouses  the  flagging  strength,  to  have  it 
vividly  set  before  us  that  there  are  countless  afflictions  in  the 
world,  each  perhaps  rivalling — some  surpassing — the  private 
pain  over  which  we  are  too  prone  exclusively  to  sorrow. 

^All  those  crowded  emigrants  had  their  troubles — their 
untoward  causes  of  banishment;  you,  the  looker-on,  had 
^^your  wishes  and  regrets" — your  anxieties,  alloying  your 
home  happiness  and  domestic  bliss  ;  and  the  parallel  might 
be  pursued  further,  and  still  it  would  be  true  —  still  the 
same  ;  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  for  each  ;  some  burden,  some 
conflict  for  all. 

^  How  far  this  state  of  things  is  susceptible  of  ameliora- 
tion from  changes  in  public  institutions — alterations  in 
national  habits — may  and  ought  to  be  earnestly  considered  : 
but  this  is  a  problem  not  easily  solved.  The  evils,  as  you 
point  them  out,  are  great,  real,  and  most  obvious  :  the 
remedy  is  obscure  and  vague  ;  yet  for  such  difficulties  as 
spring  from  over  -  competition  emigration  must  be  good ; 
the  new  life  in  a  new  country  must  give  a  new  lease  of 
hope  ;  the  wider  field,  less  thickly  peopled,  must  open  a 
new  path  for  endeavour.  But  I  always  think  great  physical 
powers  of  exertion  and  endurance  ought  to  accompany  such 
a  step.  .  .  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  that  an  original  writer 
has  fallen  in  your  way.  Originality  is  the  pearl  of  great 
price  in  literature — the  rarest,  the  most  precious  claim  by 
which  an  author  can  be  recommended.  Are  not  your  pub- 
lishing prospects  for  the  coming  season  tolerably  rich  and 
satisfactory  ?  You  inquire  after  Currer  Bell."  It  seems 
to  me  that  the  absence  of  his  name  from  your  list  of  an- 
nouncements will  leave  no  blank,  and  that  he  may  at  least 
spare  himself  the  disquietude  of  thinking  he  is  wanted 
when  it  is  certainly  not  his  lot  to  appear. 

^Perhaps  Currer  Bell  has  his  secret  moan  about  these 
matters  ;  but  if  so  he  will  keep  it  to  himself.  It  is  an  affair 
about  which  no  words  need  be  wasted,  for  no  words  can 
make  a  change  :  it  is  between  him  and  his  position,  his 
faculties  and  his  fate.' 


558  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


My  husband  and  I  were  anxious  that  she  should  pay  us 
a  visit  before  the  winter  had  set  completely  in ;  and  she 
thus  wrote,  declining  our  invitation  : — 

'  November  6. 

^If  anybody  would  tempt  me  from  home  you  would; 
but,  just  now,  from  home  I  must  not,  will  not  go.  I  feel 
greatly  better  at  present  than  I  did  three  weeks  ago.  For 
a  month  or  six  weeks  about  the  equinox  (autumnal  or  ver- 
nal) is  a  period  of  the  year  which,  I  have  noticed,  strange- 
ly tries  me.  Sometimes  the  strain  falls  on  the  mental, 
sometimes  on  the  physical  part  of  me ;  I  am  ill  with  neu- 
ralgic headache,  or  I  am  ground  to  the  dust  with  deep  de- 
jection of  spirits  (not,  however,  such  dejection  but  I  can 
keep  to  myself).  That  weary  time  has,  I  think  and  trust, 
got  over  for  this  year.  It  was  the  anniversary  of  my  poor 
brother^s  death,  and  of  my  sister's  failing  health  :  I  need 
say  no  more. 

'  As  to  running  away  from  home  every  time  I  have  a 
battle  of  this  sort  to  fight,  it  would  not  do  :  besides  the 
^Mveird'^  would  follow.    As  to  shaking  it  off,  that  cannot 

be.  I  have  declined  to  go  to  Mrs.  ,  to  Miss  Martineau, 

and  now  I  decline  to  go  to  you.  But  listen  !  do  not  think 
that  I  throw  your  kindness  away,  or  that  it  fails  of  doing 
the  good  you  desire.  On  the  contrary,  the  feeling  ex- 
pressed in  your  letter  —  proved  by  your  invitation  —  goes 
right  home  where  you  would  have  it  to  go,  and  heals  as  you 
would  have  it  to  heal. 

'Your  description  of  Frederika  Bremer^  tallies  exactly 
with  one  I  read  somewhere,  in  I  know  not  what  book.  I 
laughed  out  when  I  got  to  the  mention  of  Frederika's  special 
accomplishment,  given  by  you  with  a  distinct  simplicity 
that,  to  my  taste,  is  what  the  French  would  call  ^'impaya- 
ble.'^  Where  do  you  find  the  foreigner  who  is  without 
some  little  drawback  6f  this  description  ?    It  is  a  pity.^' 

*  Frederika  Bremer  (1801 -65),  a  Swedish  novelist,  whose  works  Mary 
Howitt  translated  into  Englisli. 
2  Miss  Bronte  writes  to  Mr.  George  Smith  on  November  7,  1851, 


1851 


HER  VISIT  TO  LONDON 


559 


A  visit  from  Miss  Wooler  at  this  period  did  Miss  Bronte 
mncli  good  for  the  time.  She  speaks  of  her  gnest^s  com- 
pany as  being  ^  very  pleasant/  ^like  good  wine/  both  to  her 
father  and  to  herself.  But  Miss  Wooler  could  not  remain 
with  her  long;  and  then  again  the  monotony  of  her  life  re- 
turned upon  her  in  all  its  force,  the  only  events  of  her  days 
and  weeks  consisting  in  the  small  changes  which  occasional 
letters  brought.  It  must  be  remembered  that  her  health 
was  often  such  as  to  prevent  her  stirring  out  of  the  house 
in  inclement  or  wintry  weather.  She  w^as  liable  to  sore 
throat,  and  depressing  pain  at  the  chest,  and  difficulty  of 
breathing,  on  the  least  exposure  to  cold. 

A  letter  from  her  late  visitor  touched  and  gratified  her 
much ;  it  was  simply  expressive  of  gratitude  for  attention 
and  kindness  shown  to  her,  but  it  wound  up  by  saying  that 
she  had  not  for  many  years  experienced  so  much  enjoyment 
as  daring  the  ten  days  passed  at  Haworth.  This  little  sen- 
tence called  out  a  wholesome  sensation  of  modest  pleasure 
in  Miss  Bronte^s  mind  ;  and  she  says,  ^it  did  me  good.^ 

a  letter  in  which  there  are  blanks  arising  from  the  original  being 
torn  : —  ^ 

*  I  enclose  a  note  just  received  from  Miss  Martineau.  She  wishes  to 
put  the  name  '  *  Edward  Howard  "  on  the  title-page  of  her  book.  Is  there 
any  objection  ?  I  told  her  I  could  see  none.  I  fear  she  is  a  good  deal 
disappointed  that  I  cannot  go  to  see  her  this  winter  and  talk  the  work 
over,  as  I  half  promised,  but  the  fact  is  several  people  have  asked  me  to 
pay  them  visits  ;  it  is  almost  impossible  to  select  without  giving  offence, 
and  if  I  went  at  all  1  should  be  continually  rambling  about  and  never  at 
home  with  my  father,  which  would  not  do.    Besides,  I  should 

unsettled  as  not  to  have  the  chance  of  doing  any  work 

of  my  may  be  a  dreary  thought,  a  blank  ,  but 

I  must  absolutely  get  accustomed  to  a  life  of  solitude  ;  there  is  no 
other  plan. 

'  The  enclosure  in  your  last  puzzled  me  a  little  at  first,  being  of  a 
larger  amount  than  I  expected  ;  but  I  remember  now  you  said  some- 
thing at  Richmond  about  having  si.  le  money  for  me.  I  wanted  to 
know  how  that  happened,  and  what  it  came  from,  feeling  a  little 
sceptical.  You  did  not  tell  me.  I  did  not  like  to  ask  you  twice.  If, 
however,  you  had  any  cash  that  was  justly  mine,  you  did  right  to  put 
it  in  the  Funds  with  the  rest/ 


560  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


I  find^  in  a  letter  to  a  distant  friend^^  written  about  this 
time,  a  retrospect  of  her  visit  to  London.  It  is  too  ample 
to  be  considered  as  a  mere  repetition  of  what  she  had  said 
before  ;  and,  besides,  it  shows  that  her  first  impressions  of 
what  she  saw  and  heard  were  not  crude  and  transitory,  but 
stood  the  tests  of  time  and  afterthought. 

^  I  spent  a  few  weeks  in  town  last  summer,  as  you  have 
heard,  and  was  much  interested  by  many  things  I  heard 
and  saw  there.  What  now  chiefly  dwells  in  my  memory 
are  Mr.  Thackeray's  lectures.  Mademoiselle  RacheFs  act- 
ing, D'Aubigne's,  Melville's,  and  Maurice's  preaching,  and 
the  Crystal  Palace. 

'  Mr.  Thackeray's  lectures  you  will  have  seen  mentioned 
and  commented  on  in  the  papers ;  they  were  very  interest- 
ing. I  could  not  always  coincide  with  the  sentiments  ex- 
pressed, or  the  opinions  broached  ;  but  I  admired  the  gen- 
tlemanlike ease,  the  quiet  humour,  the  taste,  the  talent,  the 
simplicity,  and  the  originality  of  the  lecturer. 

'  Rachel's  acting  transfixed  me  with  wonder,  enchained 
me  with  interest,  and  thrilled  me  with  horror.  The  tre- 
mendous force  with  which  she  expresses  the  very  worst 
passions  in  their  strongest  essence  forms  an  exhibition  as 
exciting  as  the  bull-fights  of  Spain  and  the  gladiatorial  com- 
bats of  old  Rome,  and  (it  seemed  to  me)  not  one  whit  more 
moral  than  these  poisoned  stimulants  to  popular  ferocity. 
It  is  scarcely  human  nature  that  she  shows  you ;  it  is  some- 
thing wilder  and  worse  ;  the  feelings  and  fury  of  a  fiend. 
The  great  gift  of  genius  she  undoubtedly  has  ;  but,  I  fear, 
she  rather  abuses  it  than  turns  it  to  good  account. 

^  With  all  the  three  preachers  I  was  greatly  pleased. 
Melville  seemed  to  me  the  most  eloquent,  Maurice  the 
most  in  earnest;  had  I  the  choice,  it  is  Maurice  whose 
ministry  I  should  frequent. 

'  On  the  Crystal  Palace  I  need  not  comment.   You  must 

*  To  James  Taylor  in  Bombay. 


1851 


LETTER  TO  HER  PUBLISHER  561 


already  have  heard  too  much  of  it.  It  struck  me  at'  the 
first  with  only  a  vagne  sort  of  wonder  and  admiration;  but 
having  one  day  the  privilege  of  going  over  it  in  company 
with  an  eminent  contryman  of  yours,  Sir  David  Brewster, 
and  hearing,  in  his  friendly  Scotch  accent,  his  lucid  ex- 
planation of  many  things  that  have  been  to  me  before  a 
sealed  book,  I  began  a  little  better  to  comprehend  it,  or  at 
least  a  small  part  of  it ;  whether  its  final  results  will  equal 
expectation  I  know  not/ 

Her  increasing  indisposition  subdued  her  at  last,  in  spite 
of  all  her  efforts  of  reason  and  will.  She  tried  to  forget 
oppressive  recollections  in  writing.  Her  publishers  were 
importunate  for  a  new  book  from  her  pen.  ^  Villette  ^  was 
begun,  but  she  lacked  power  to,  continue  it. 

^It  is  not  at  all  likely,^  she  says,  ^that  my  book  will  be 
ready  at  the  time  you  mention.  If  my  health  is  spared  I 
shall  get  on  with  it  as  fast  as  is  consistent  with  its  being 
done,  if  not  loell,  yet  as  well  as  I  can  do  it — not  one  whit 
faster.  When  the  mood  leaves  me  (it  has  left  me  now, 
without  vouchsafing  so  much  as  a  word  of  a  message  when 
it  will  return)  I  put  by  the  MS.  and  wait  till  it  comes  back 
again.  God  knows  I  sometimes  have  to  wait  long — very 
long  it  seems  to  me.  Meantime,  if  I  might  make  a  request 
to  you,  it  would  be  this :  Please  to  say  nothing  about  my 
book  till  it  is  written  and  in  your  hands.  You  may  not  like 
it.  I  am  not  myself  elated  with  it  as  far  as  it  has  gone,  and 
authors,  you  need  not  be  told,  are  always  tenderly  indulgent, 
even  blindly  partial,  to  their  own.  Even  if  it  should  turn 
out  reasonably  well,  still  I  regard  it  as  ruin  to  the  prosper- 
ity of  an  ephemeral,  book,  like  a  novel,  to  be  much  talked 
of  beforehand,  as  if  it  were  something  great.  People  are 
apt  to  conceive,  or  at  least  to  profess,  exaggerated  expec- 
tation, such  as  no  performance  can  realise  ;  then  ensue 
disappointment  and  the  due  revenge,  detraction  and  fail- 
ure.   If  when  I  write  I  were  to  think  of  the  critics  who,  I 


562 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


know^  are  waiting  for  Currer  Bell,  ready  to  break  all  his 
bones  or  ever  he  conies  to  the  bottom  of  the  den/^  my  hand 
wonld  fall  paralysed  on  my  desk.  However  I  can  but  do 
my  best,  and  then  muffle  my  head  in  the  mantle  of  Pa- 
tience, and  sit  down  at  her  feet  and  wait/ 

The  mood  here  spoken  of  did  not  go  oS. ;  it  had  a  phys- 
ical origin.  Indigestion,  nausea,  headache,  sleeplessness 
all  combined  to  produce  miserable  depression  of  spirits. 
A  little  event  which  occurred  about  this,  time  did  not 
tend  to  cheer  her.  It  was  the  death  of  poor  old  faith- 
ful Keeper,  Emily^s  dog.  He  had  come  to  the  Parsonage 
in  the  fierce  strength  of  his  youth.  Sullen  and  ferocious, 
he  had  met  with  his  master  in  the  indomitable  Emily. 
Like  most  dogs  of  his  kind  he  feared,  respected,  and 
deeply  loved  her  who  subdued  him.  He  had  mourned  her 
with  the  pathetic  fidelity  of  his  nature,  falling  into  old  age 
after  her  death.  And  now  her  surviving  sister  wrote,  ^  Poor 
old  Keeper  died  last  Monday  morning,  after  being  ill  one 
night;  he  went  gently  to  sleep;  we  laid  his  old  faithful 
head  in  the  garden.  Flossy  (the  ^''fat  curly-haired  dog^^) 
is  dull  and  misses  him.  There  was  something  very  sad  in 
losing  the  old  dog;  yet  I  am  glad  he  met  a  natural  fate. 
People  kept  hinting  he  ought  to  be  put  away,  which  neither 
papa  nor  I  liked  to  think  of/* 

^  A  Mr.  John  Stores  Smith  visited  Haworth  in  1850,  called  upon 
Miss  Bronte,  and  described  his  experiences  in  the  Free  Lance  of  March 
14,  1868.  His  article  contains  the  best  description  of  Keeper  that  I 
have  seen : — 

*  In  those  days  I  possessed  a  dog,  which  had  become  a  loved  com- 
panion of  my  rambles.  This  dog  arrived  at  the  garden  wicket  simul- 
taneously with  myself.  Now  it  so  chanced  that  the  dog  of  the  parson- 
age was  taking  his  siesta  in  the  sun  at  that  very  moment,  and  lay  curled 
into  a  huge  ball  on  the  doorstep.  He  was  very  old,  almost  tooth- 
less, and  I  believe  wholly  blind.  His  breed  was  conglomerate,  com- 
bining every  species  of  English  caninity  from  the  turnspit  to  the 
sheepdog,  with  a  strain  of  Haworth  originality  superadded.  ...  In 
the  exuberance  of  his  youth,  with  tail  wagging  and  ears  cocked,  my 


1851 


ILLNESS 


563 


When  Miss  Bronte  wrote  this,  on  December  8,  she  was 
suffering  from  a  bad  cold,  and  pain  in  her  side.  Her  illness 
increased,  and  on  December  17  she — so  patient,  silent, 
and  enduring  of  suffering — so  afraid  of  any  unselfish  taxing 
of  others — had  to  call  to  her  friend  Ellen  for  help. 

'  I  cannot  at  present  go  to  see  you,  but  I  would  be  grate- 
ful if  you  could  come  and  see  me,  even  were  it  only  for  a 
few  days.  To  speak  truth,  I  have  put  on  but  a  poor  time 
of  it  during  this  month  past.  I  kept  hoping  to  be  bet- 
ter, but  was  at  last  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  a  medical 
man.  Sometimes  I  have  felt  very  weak  and  low,  and  long 
much  for  society,  but  could  not  persuade  myself  to  com- 
mit the  selfish  act  of  asking  you  merely  for  my  own  relief. 
The  doctor  speaks  encouragingly,  but  as  yet  I  get  no  bet- 
ter. As  the  illness  has  been  coming  on  for  a  long  time,  it 
cannot,  I  suppose,  be  expected  to  disappear  all  at  once.  I 
am  not  confined  to  bed,  but  I  am  weak  —  have  had  no  ap- 
petite for  about  three  weeks — and  my  nights  are  very  bad. 
I  am  well  aware  myself  that  extreme  and  continuous  de- 
pression of  spirits  has  had  much  to  do  with  the  origin  of 
the  illness  ;  and  I  know  a  little  cheerful  society  would  do 
me  more  good  than  gallons  of  medicine.  If  you  can  come, 
come  on  Friday.  Write  to-morrow  and  say  w^hether  this 
be  possible,  and  what  time  you  will  be  at  Keighley,  that  I 
may  send  the  gig.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  stay  long  ;  a  few 
days  is  all  I  request.^ 

dog  trotted  gaily  up  to  this  poor  old  memento  of  the  past,  and  in  a 
second  there  was  such  an  uproar  as  Haworth  churchyard  had  seldom 
or  never  heard.  With  an  angry  roar  the  old  dog  by  sheer  weight 
rolled  the  younger  one  over,  and  commenced  a  painless  worrying  with 
his  toothless  gums;  and  the  other,  smarting  under  the  first  rebuff  he 
had  yet  encountered,  howled  from  vexation  rather  than  from  pain.  In 
a  minute  or  less  I  had  nipped  up  my  animal  and  held  him  under  my  arm, 
barking  furiously,  while  the  old  one  rolled  to  and  fro  among  the  man- 
drakes, blindly  seeking  his  vanished  enemy.  At  this  instant  the  door 
opened  and  the  servant  appeared,  and  behind  h^r  on  the  stairs  the 
authoress  of  Jane  Eyre' 


564  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Of  course  her  friend  went ;  and  a  certain  amount  of 
benefit  was  derived  from  her  society,  always  so  grate- 
ful to  Miss  Bronte.  But  the  evil  was  now  too  deep- 
rooted  to  be  more  than  palliated  for  a  time  by  ^the 
little  cheerful  society,^  for  which  she  so  touchingly  be- 
sought. 

A  relapse  came  on  before  long.  She  was  very  ill,  and 
the  remedies  employed  took  an  unusual  effect  on  her 
peculiar  sensitiveness  of  constitution.  Mr.  Bronte  was 
miserably  anxious  about  the  state  of  his  only  remaining 
child,  for  she  was  reduced  to  the  last  degree  of  weakness, 
as  she  had  been  unable  to  swallow  food  for  above  a  week 
before.  She  rallied,  and  derived  her  sole  sustenance  from 
half  a  tea-cup  of  liquid,  administered  by  teaspoonfuls,  in 
the  course  of  the  day.  Yet  she  kept  out  of  bed,  for  her 
father's  sake,  and  struggled  in  solitary  patience  through 
her  worst  hours.* 

^  On  November  10  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Williams  the  following  hitherto 
unpublished  letter: — 

'  I  have  now  read  The  Fair  Carew.  It  seems  to  me  a  delightful  work 
and  of  genuine  metal.  Whether  it  has  the  glare  and  strong  excite- 
ment necessary  to  attract  the  million  I  do  not  know,  but  I  find  in  it 
the  ease  and  repose  only  seen  in  good  books.  It  owns  both  breadth 
of  outline  and  delicacy  of  finish,  sufficient  force,  and  the  most  facile 
flow.  The  truth  and  nature  of  the  characters  are  beyond  praise  ;  the 
satire  has  a  keen  edge,  yet  the  temper  of  the  work  is  good  and  genial. 
This  writer  is  as  shrewd  as  Miss  Austen  and  not  so  shrewish,  as  inter- 
esting as  Mrs.  Inchbald  and  more  vigorous.  Now  and  then  I  was 
reminded  of  Thackeray's  wit  and  wisdom,  but  never  of  his  vinegar 
and  gall.  The  interest  is  strongest  in  the  latter  half  of  the  first  vol- 
ume, yet  for  me  the  narrative  never  flagged  ;  where  I  was  not  spell- 
bound I  was  charmed  and  amused.  Who  and  what  is  this  lady  ?  Is 
she  young  or  middle-aged  ? 

'  I  return  Mr.  Thackeray's  little  illustrated  note.  How  excellent  is 
Goldsmith  issuing  in  full-blown  complacency  from  Filby's  shop,  with 
Dr.  Johnson  walking  half  benignant,  half  sarcastic  by  his  side  ! 
Captain  Steele,  too,  is  very  good.  Surely  if  Mr.  Thackeray  undertook 


1851  LETTERS  TO  MR.  GEORGE  SMITH 


565 


When  she  was  recovering  her  spirits  needed  support, 
and  then  she  yielded  to  her  friend^s  entreaty  that  she 
would  visit  her.    All  the  time  that  Miss  Bronte's  illness 

to  furnish  illustratioDS  he  would  not  be  troublesome  and  procrastinat- 
ing about  what  he  can  dash  off  so  easily  and  rapidly/ 

The  following  letters,  from  which  Mrs.  Gaskell  made  one  or  two 
extracts,  probably  have  their  chronological  place  here  : — 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ. 

'November  20,  1851. 

'  My  dear  Sir, — I  have  the  pleasure  of  forwarding  another  letter 
from  Miss  Martineau.  I  use  the  word  pleasure  because  you  and  she 
will  recur  to  the  notion  that  it  must  somehow  be  a  trouble  to  me  to 
act  as  medium.  Indeed,  it  is  no  trouble;  far  otherwise.  You  will 
see  from  what  she  says  that  her  plan  is  expanding  and  soaring.  In  a 
note  to  myself  accompanying  yours  she  expresses  high  and  enthusias- 
tic hopes  of  the  success  of  the  book.  I  tell  her  not  to  be  too  sanguine, 
and  will  venture  to  whisper  the  same  to  you.  She  is  in  fine  spirits 
now,  and  they  may  last  to  the  end,  thus  enabling  her  to  achieve  a 
great  work,  but  she  may  also  be  seeing  things  a  little  too  much  under 
the  rose-colour  light  of  an  excited  imagination.  There  is  something 
about  her  nature  very  buoyant  and  difficult  to  subaue.  I  think  you 
were  quite  right  in  what  you  said  about  the  name. 

'  That  anecdote  in  the  Times  is  evidently  of  Mr.  Thackeray's  own 
telling.  It  bears  his  stamp  upon  it.  In  reading  it  I  seemed  to  realise 
his  look  and  voice.    Can  it  be  literally  true? 

*  I  have  been  able  to  work  a  little  lately,  but  I  have  quite  made  up 
my  mind  not  to  publish  till  Mr.  Thackeray's  and  Miss  Martineau's 
books  have  had  full  career,  so  you  will  not  think  of  me  till  next 
autumn,  or  thereabouts  ;  is  not  this  for  the  best?  Meantime  it  is  per- 
haps premature  in  me  even  to  allude  to  the  subject,  but  I  do  it  partly 
to  explain  one  of  my  motives  for  remaining  at  home  this  winter.  Win- 
ter ia  a  better  time  for  working  than  summer  ;  less  liable  to  interrup- 
tion. If  I  could  always  work,  time  would  not  be  long,  nor  hours  sad 
to  me;  but  blank  and  heavy  intervals  still  occur,  when  power  and 
will  are  at  variance.  This,  however,  is  talking  Greek  to  an  eminent 
and  spirited  publisher.    He  does  not  believe  in  such  things. 

'  The  Fair  Carew,  it  seems,  is  now  fairly  out.  I  hope  it  will  receive 
from  the  press  and  the  public  a  just  and  a  discriminating  reception. 
That  it  is  a  really  good  book,  though  not  showy,  I  maintain.  I  have 
glanced  at  some  chapters  of  another  novel  of  yours — Florence  Sack- 
ville.     This,  too,  appears  to  me  to  possess  no  common  merit,  though 


566  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


had  lasted  Miss  Nussey  had  been  desirous  of  coming  to 
her  ;  but  she  refused  to  avail  herself  of  this  kindness,  say- 
ing that  ^  it  was  enough  to  burden  herself :  that  it  would 

I  have  not  as  yet  recognised  in  it  the  small,  quiet,  sterling  stamp  per- 
ceptible in  The  Fair  Garew,  but  I  am  only  beginning  it. 

*  Believe  me, 

*  Sincerely  yours, 

*  C.  Bronte.* 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ. 

'November  28,  1851. 
*My  dear  Sir,— I  did  see  the  notice  of  The  Fair  Carew  in  the  Lead- 
er, and  I  read  the  Spectator  which  you  sent  me.  The  first  struck  me 
as  a  disgrace  to  Mr.  Lewes  (it  was  evidently  the  production  of  his  ac- 
complished pen).  That  gentlemen  has,  when  he  chooses  to  use  it, 
very  good  critical  acumen,  and  even  possesses  in  the  midst  of  his  pre- 
sumption and  flippancy  an  instinctive  sense  of  justice,  as  well  as  the 
germ  of  a  kind  of  generosity  ;  in  this  instance  he  shamelessly  flings 
aside  all  these  good  properties.  But  I  cannot  believe  he  really  read 
the  book.  He  must  surely  have  taken  it  up  in  some  dull,  sleepy 
mood,  turned  the  pages  three  or  four  at  a  time,  and  sat  down  to  write 
his  critique  when  he  ought  to  have  put  on  his  nightcap  and  gone  to 
bed. 

*  That  in  the  Spectator  is  a  much  more  honest  notice,  though  in- 
finitely stupid.  The  poor  man  used  what  faculties  he  had,  but  the 
faculty  of  judging  a  work  of  fiction  is  not  amongst  his  talents.  That 
worthy  critic  had  no  perception  for  originality  of  thought  or  nicety 
of  delineation  ;  he  is  blind  as  a  bat  and  profoundly  satisfied  with  his 
blindness.  However,  if  it  be  any  consolation  to  Miss  Biggar,  she 
may  be  told  that  the  Spectator  has  treated  The  Fair  Carew  with  much 
more  respect  than  it  treated  Jane  Eyre;  of  the  latter  its  most  salient 
remark  was  that  the  conception  and  characters  of  the  book  reminded 
him  (the  critic)  of  nothing  so  much  as  the  grotesque  and  hideous 
masks  of  apes,  wolves,  and  griffins  to  be  found  in  the  carved  works 
of  certain  old  cathedrals.  It  was  in  his  estimation  a  morbid  monkish 
fancy,  a  thing  with  the  head  of  an  owl,  the  tail  of  a  fox,  and  the 
talons  of  an  eagle. 

*  Florence  Sackmlle  is  a  clever  book,  as  you  say,  and  an  interesting 
book  of  an  order  quite  inferior  to  The  Fair  Carew,  yet  meriting  both 
praise  and  success.  What  The  Fair  Carew  lacks  is  the  striking,  the 
effective,  the  exciting — just  what  Mr.  Thackeray  lacks  ;  and,  as  he 
once  said  to  Currer  Bell  with  some  bitterness,  **  I  worked  ten  years 
before  I  achieved  a  real  success,"  intimating  at  the  same  time  that  tlie 


1851  LETTER  TO  HARRIET  MARTINEAU  567 


be  misery  to  aniioy  another;^  and  even  at  her  worst  time, 
she  tells  her  friend  with  humorous  glee  how  coolly  she 

said  "Currer  Bell"  had  won  his  small  first- work  conquest  a  great 
deal  too  cheaply,  which  would  have  been  true  only  that  Currer  Bell 
had  worked  quite  as  long  as  Mr.  Thackeray  without  publishing. 

'  I  have  no  doubt  that  Miss  Martineau's  opinion  of  her  own  work,  as 
far  as  it  has  yet  advanced,  may  be  implicitly  relied  on.  She  is  no 
self-flatterer,  but,  I  think,  disposed  to  be  as  honest  with  herself  as 
with  others.  The  only  fear  is  that  she  may  be  a  little  too  sanguine 
in  auguring  from  a  brilliant  commencement  a  triumphant  finale. 

*  It  is  not  at  all  likely  that  my  book  will  be  ready  at  the  time  you 
mention.  If  my  health  is  spared  I  shall  get  on  with  it  as  fast  as  is 
consistent  with  its  being  done,  if  not  well,  yet  as  well  as  I  can  do  it, 
not  one  wMt  faster.  When  the  mood  leaves  me  (it  has  left  me  now, 
without  vouchsafing  so  much  as  a  word  of  a  message  when  it  will  re- 
turn) I  put  by  the  MS.  and  wait  till  it  comes  back  again  ;  and  God 
kno\^  s  I  sometimes  have  to  wait  long — very  long  it  seems  to  me. 

*  Meantime,  if  I  might  make  a  request  to  you,  it  would  be  this  : 
Please  to  say  nothing  about  my  book  till  it  is  written  and  in  your 
hands.  You  may  not  like  it.  I  am  not  myself  elated  with  it  as  far 
as  it  has  gone,  and  authors,  you  need  not  be  told,  are  always  tenderly 
indulgent,  even  blindly  partial,  to  their  own  ;  even  if  it  should  turn 
out  reasonably  well,  still  I  regard  it  as  ruin  to  the  prosperity  of  an 
ephemeral  book  like  a  novel  to  be  much  talked  about  beforehand,  as  if 
it  were  something  great.  People  are  apt  to  conceive,  or  at  least  to  pro- 
fess, exaggerated  expectations,  such  as  no  performance  can  realise  ; 
then  ensue  disappointment  and  the  due  revenge— detraction  and  fail- 
ure. If,  when  I  write,  I  were  to  tbink  of  the  critics  who,  I  know, 
are  waiting  for  Currer  Bell,  ready  "  to  break  all  his  bones  or  ever  he 
comes  to  the  bottom  of  the  den,"  my  hand  would  fall  paralysed  on 
my  desk.  However,  I  can  but  do  my  best,  and  then  muffle  my  head 
in  the  mantle  of  Patience  and  sit  down  at  her  feet  and  wait. 

'  Your  mother  and  sisters  are  very  kind  to  think  of  my  coming  to 
see  them  at  Christmas,  but  you  must  give  them  my  best  regards  and 
say  that  such  a  step  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  Tell  your  mother  not  to 
ask  me,  because  I  could  only  repeat  what  I  have  said  above.  This 
winter  1  must  stay  at  home.         Believe  me  always, 

'  Sincerely  yours, 

*  C.  Bronte.' 

The  following  letter  would  seem  to  be  one  of  the  only  two  letters 
addressed  by  Charlotte  Bronte  to  Harriet  Martineau  that  were  not  de- 
stroyed by  the  latter  ;  see  note,  p.  616.    At  the  time  Mrs.  Gaskell's 


568 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


had  managed  to  capture  one  of  Miss  Nuasey^s  letters  to 
Mr.  Bronte,  which  she  suspected  was  of  a  kind  to  aggra- 

Memoir  was  published  Miss  Martineau  wrote  indignantly  to  Mr. 
Nicholls  demanding  her  letters.  They  were,  of  course,  immediately 
returned  to  her: — 

TO  MISS  HARRIET  MARTINEAU. 

'December  10, 1851. 

'My  dear  Miss  Martineau, — Begging  Mr.  Smith's  pardon,  ''Peter'' 
Murray,  to  my  thinking,  won't  do.  "Murray"  is  very  well,  but 
against  Peter"  I  protest  with  lifted  hands  and  eyes.  It  reminds  me 
of  Peter  Parley,"  "Peter  Peebles,"  and  a  dozen  other  "Peters,*'  and 
in  another  way  sounds  quite  as  fictitious  as  "  Edward  Howard,"  with 
the  disadvantage  of  being  less  euphonious. 

'Allow  me  to  introduce  and  earnestly  recommend  to  your  good 
graces  Alexander  F.  Murray,  Esq.  (F.  t3eing  supposed  to  stand  for 
"  Eraser  ");  the  initial,  depend  on  it,  will  tell  well,  coming  in  with  the 
most  innocent  air  of  reality  imaginable. 

*  Do  tell  Mr.  Smith  when  you  write  again  that  you  will  be  called 
Alexander  Eraser  Murray,  and  return  him  his  loan  of  "Peter"  with 
compliments. 

*  "  Oliver  Weld"  seems  to  me  excellent.  I  like  the  sound  and  the 
look  of  it. 

'After  some  deliberation,  some  Epicurean  balancing  between  the 
comparative  advantages  of  tasting  my  peach  now  or  leaving  it  to  hang 
untouched  a  few  months  longer,  when  it  will  be  quite  ripe,  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that,  since  "a  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two 
in  the  bush,"  it  will  be  wise  to  accept  a  bite  out  of  the  sunny  side  of  it 
as  soon  as  you  think  proper  to  put  out  a  kind  hand  and  hold  it  with- 
in my  reach.  So  send  the  MS.  whenever  you  please.  Your  hand- 
writing is  clear  and  legible.  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  read  it  currently. 
In  return  you  shall  receive  an  honest  account  of  the  impression  made. 

'  My  father  so  far  has,  I  am  glad  to  say,  escaped  injury  from  the 
late  sudden  change  of  temperature,  but  it  brought  on  me  a  somewhat 
severe  cold,  out  of  the  clutches  of  which  I  have  not  yet  escaped.  I 
shall  be  glad  when  it  is  over,  since,  with  its  accompaniments  of  in- 
fluenza, headaches,  and  toothaches,  it  tends  to  stupefaction  and  de- 
pression. Believe  me  yours  sincerely  and  affectionately, 

*  C.  Bronte.* 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ. 

'  December  19,  1851. 
'  My  dear  Sir, — I  forward  to-day  the  MS.  of  P.  F.  Murray,  Esq.  I 
have  read  it,  but  find  a  little  difficulty  in  telling  you  what  I  think 


1851  LETTERS  TO  MR.  GEORGE  SMITH 


569 


vate  his  alarm  about  his  daughter's  state,  ^and,  at  once 
conjecturing  its  tenor,  made  its  contents  her  own/ 

about  it.  As  a  publisher's  book  I  should  think  it  is  good— likely  to 
attract  attention  and  excite  discussion.  It  touches  on  most  of  the  dif- 
ficult and  important  social  topics,  and  abounds  in  evidence  of  the 
writer's  high  intellectual  powers  as  to  the  opinions  broached  or  insin- 
uated ;  they  are  not  in  m.y  way,  but  that  does  not  in  the  least  signify. 
I  wish  she  had  kept  off  theology.  The  interest  is  not  very  enchaining. 
The  artistic  defects  are  many  and  great,  but  few  will  care  for  those/ 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ. 

•December  31,  1851. 

*  My  dear  Sir,  —A  note  from  Miss  Martineau  to  you  is  enclosed. 
You  will  see  she  lays  stress  upon  the  third  volume,  but  in  no  shape 
questions  your  right  to  decline  the  MS. 

'  I  feared  you  would  be  disappointed  with  Oliver  Weld  when  you 
read  it,  though  I  had  not  calculated  on  its  proving  so  obnoxious  in  a 
business  point  of  view  as  you  seem  to  anticipate.  I  did  not  like  to 
tell  you  how  great  was  my  own  surprise  on  perusing  the  manuscript; 
the  two  notes  enclosed,  which  are  all  I  have  on  the  subject,  had  led 
me  to  expect  something  very  different.  You  will  kindly  return  them 
to  me  when  you  shall  have  satisfied  yourself  by  perusal  that  you  were 
not  mistaken  in  supposing  that  you  had  been  led  to  expect  a  work  of 
another  tenor. 

'  Excuse  me  from  saying  much  on  the  subject ;  I  am  very  sorry 
about  it  altogether.  But  I  do  not  take  it  in  any  shape  to  heart,  nor  fear 
that  blame  can  attach  to  you  in  the  matter  ;  indeed,  I  feel  very  sure 
Miss  Martineau  is  much  too  honourable  for  a  moment  to  impute  it. 

*  I  scarcely  feel  inclined  to  venture  on  trying  to  influence  Miss  M. 
any  more.  There  is  a  peculiar  property  in  her  which  must  sooner  or 
later  be  recognized  as  a  great  inconvenience  by  such  of  her  acquaint- 
ance as  admire  her  intellectual  powers  and  her  many  excellent  personal 
qualities  without  being  able  to  agree  in  her  views ;  she  is  prone  to 
mistake  liking  for  agreement,  and  with  the  sanguine  eagerness  of  her 
character  thinks  to  sweep  you  along  with  her  in  her  whirlwind  course. 
This  will  not  do. 

*  I  am  somewhat  relieved  about  my  health,  being  assured  that,  not- 
withstanding some  harassing  symptoms,  there  is  no  organic  unsound- 
ness whatever,  and  encouraged  to  hope  for  better  days  if  I  am  careful. 
The  nervous  system  suffers  the  most,  but  I  cannot  tell  how  to  steel  it. 
Going  from  home  is  no  cure. 

*  Once  more,  be  sure  not  to  be  too  sensitive  and  anxious  about  this 


570  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Happily  for  all  parties  Mr.  Bronte  was  wonderfully  well 
this  winter;  good  sleep,  good  spirits,  and  an  excellent  steady 

Oliner  Weld  business.  It  is  a  disappoinment,  a  sad  disappointment, 
but  we  cannot  help  it. 

*  Remember  me  very  kindly  to  your  mother  and  sisters,  and  believe 
me  always  Sincerely  yours, 

*  C.  Bronte. 

*  P.S.— You  did  very  wrong  to  tear  up  that  note  you  said  you  had 
written  to  me.    I  should  have  liked  it.' 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ. 

( Undated. ) 

*  Miss  Martineau  was  much  pleased  with  your  last,  which  she  sent 
me  to  look  at.  Decidedly  it  was  not  bad  (I  must  not  say  it  was  goody 
for  that  would  be  a  comfit  ") ;  besides,  though  there  are  many  things 
which  might  be  said  on  that  head  and  in  connection  therewith,  it  is  not 
necessary  ;  yourself  must  speak  to  yourself ;  but  I  will  tell  you  a  thing 
to  be  noted,  often  in  your  letters  and  almost  always  in  your  conversation, 
a  psychological  thing,  and  not  a  matter  pertaining  to  style  or  intellect: 
I  mean  an  undercurrent  of  quiet  raillery,  an  inaudible  laugh  to  your- 
self, a  not  unkindly  but  somewhat  subtle  playing  on  your  correspondent 
as  companion  for  the  time  being— in  short,  a  sly  touch  of  a  Mephistophe- 
les  with  the  fiend  extracted.  In  the  present  instance  this  speciality 
is  perceptible  only  in  the  slightest  degree — quite  imperceptible  for  the 
world — but  it  is  there,  and  more  or  less  you  have  it  always.  I  by  no 
means  mention  this  as  a  fault,  I  merely  tell  you  you  have  it.  And  I 
can  make  the  accusation  with  comfortable  impunity,  guessing  pretty 
surely  that  you  are  too  busy  just  now  to  deny  this  or  any  other  charge. 

*Miss  M.  has  taken  a  little  scruple  into  her  head  that  she  is  doing 
rather  an  unhandsome  thing  to  me  in  making  me  the  instrument  of 
engaging  my  publisher  to  publish  lier  book.  This  notion  entirely 
amuses  me  ;  but  I  rather  prefer  she  should  view  it  in  that  light  than 
imagine  I  showed  any  marked  eagerness  in  encouraging  the  idea  of  her 
offering  you  the  MS. 

*  I  am  glad  the  matter  is  now  settled,  as  she  says  when  she  once 
begins  she  will  work  steadily.  She  knows  nothing  about  my  Quaker- 
like waiting  on  the  spirit  ;  that  is  not  her  plan,  nor  her  nature.  So 
much  the  better.  I  am  very  glad  to  find  you  have  been  to  Hastings, 
though  only  for  two  days.  Believe  me  sincerely  yours, 

*  C.  Bronte.' 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ. 

{Undated.) 

*  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  that  there  are  good  news  of  Mr.  Taylor, 


1852 


ILLNESS 


571 


appetite  all  seemed  to  mark  vigour  ;  in  such  a  state  of  health 
Charlotte  could  leave  him  to  spend  a  week  with  her  friend, 
without  any  great  anxiety.^ 

She  benefited  greatly  by  the  kind  attentions  and  cheer- 
ful society  of  the  family  with  whom  she  went  to  stay. 
They  did  not  care  for  her  in  the  least  as  '  Currer  Bell/ 
but  had  known  and  loved  her  for  years  as  Charlotte 
Bronte.  To  them  her  invalid  weakness  was  only  a  fresh 
claim  upon  their  tender  regard  from  the  solitary  woman 
whom  they  had  first  known  as  a  little  motherless  school- 
girl.' 

that  he  is  so  well,  and  that  his  business  energies  have  so  far  stood  the 
test  of  the  Indian  sun. 

*  I  hope  your  "  small  troubles  "  will  soon  melt  away  ;  that  paragraph 
in  which  you  mention  them  brings  to  one's  mind's  eye  the  movements 
of  a  curbed-in,  eager  steed.  You  must  be  patient,  you  must  not 
champ  your  bit  and  rear  in  that  way.  Good-bye.  I  wish  there  was 
no  more  reality  in  any  evil  that  can  possibly  come  near  you  than  there 
is  in  the  idea  of  my  feeling  anything  but  gratitude  for  that  unjustly 
accused  letter.  C.  Bronte.' 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH,  ESQ. 

(Fragment.)  ^Undated.) 

*  Poor  Mr.  Newby !  One  is  very  sorry  for  hira  after  all.  I  hope  your 
conscience  fined  you  in  the  sum  of  five  shillings  for  that  pun  on  the 
Nubian  Desert.  C.  B.' 

*  A  letter  to  Mr.  George  Smith  is  dated  January  1,  1852: — 

*  After  all  I  have  written  a  line  to  Miss  Martineau.  I  grieve  to 
think  that  the  whole  matter  should  be  defeated  through  the  fatal  per- 
versity of  a  nature  on  the  whole  great  and  good,  I  have  just  said 
these  words  to  her,  and  whether  they  will  produce  any  beneficial  effect, 
or  whether  she  will  be  displeased,  I  do  not  know. 

What  Mr.  Smith  wanted  and  expected  was  another  Deerhrook. 
He  did  not  look  for  politics  or  theology.  Deerhrook  made  you  beloved 
wherever  it  was  read.  Olimr  Weld  will  not  have  this  effect.  It  is 
powerful ;  it  is  vivid  ;  it  must  strike,  but  it  will  rarely  please.  You 
think  perhaps  it  will  do  good  ?  Not  so  much  good  as  Deerhrook  did. 
Better  the  highest  part  of  what  is  in  your  own  self  than  all  the  politi- 
cal and  religious  controversy  in  the  world.  Rest  a  little  while ;  con- 
sider the  matter  over,  and  see  whether  you  have  not  another  Deerhrook 
in  your  heart  to  give  England."  ' 

Miss  Bronte  wrote  the  following  letter  from  Miss  Nussey's  home. 


572  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Miss  Bronte  wrote  to  me  about  this  time,  and  told  me 
something  of  what  she  had  suffered. 

*  February  6,  1852. 
^  Certainly  the  past  winter  has  been  to  me  a  strange 
^  time ;  had  I  the  prospect  before  me  of  living  it  over  again, 
my  prayer  must  necessarily  be,  ^^Let  this  cup  pass  from 
me/^    That  depression  of  spirits,  which  I  thought  was 

It  is  dated  Brookroyd,  January  29,  1852,  and  is  addressed  to  Mrs. 
Smith:— 

*  Your  note  and  invitation  are  very  truly  kind,  but,  as  Mr.  Smith 
will  have  told  you,  I  am  already  from  home  trying  the  effect  of  those 
remedies  you  recommend — change  of  air  and  scene.  I  am  much  bet- 
ter than  I  was,  though  I  cannot  expect  to  be  well  all  at  once. 

'  When  I  bid  you  good-  bye  in  Euston  Square  Station  I  determined 
in  my  own  mind  that  I  would  not  again  come  to  London  except  un- 
der conditions  which  are  yet  unfulfilled.  A  treat  must  be  earned 
before  it  can  be  enjoyed,  and  the  treat  which  a  visit  to  you  affords 
me  is  yet  unearned,  and  must  so  remain  for  a  time,  how  long  I  do  not 
know, 

'  I  will  tell  you  about  my  illness  and  how  it  came  on.  I  suffered 
exceedingly  from  depression  of  spirits  in  the  autumn.  Then,  at 
the  commencement  of  winter,  the  weather  set  in  very  severe.  One 
day  when  I  was  walking  out  I  felt  a  peculiar  pain  in  my  right  side  ;  I 
did  not  think  much  of  it  at  first,  but  was  not  well  from  that  time. 
Soon  after  I  took  cold ;  the  cold  struck  in,  inflammatory  action  en- 
sued ;  I  had  high  fever  at  night,  the  pain  in  my  side  became  very  se- 
vere, there  was  a  constant  burning  and  aching  in  my  chest ;  I  lost  my 
sleep  and  could  eat  nothing.  My  own  conclusion  was  that  my  lungs 
were  affected,  but  on  consulting  a  medical  man  my  lungs  and  chest 
were  pronounced  perfectly  sound,  and  it  appeared  that  the  inflamma- 
tion had  fallen  on  the  liver.  I  have  since  varied,  being  better  some- 
times when  the  internal  fever  subsided,  and  again  worse  when  it  was 
increased  by  change  of  weather,  or  any  other  exciting  cause  ;  but  I 
am  told  that  there  is  no  danger,  as  it  is  a  case  of  functional  derange- 
ment, not  of  organic  disease.  The  solitude  of  my  hfe  I  have  certain- 
ly felt  very  keenly  this  winter,  but  every  one  has  his  own  burden  to 
bear,  and  when  there  is  no  available  remedy  it  is  right  to  be  patient 
and  trust  that  Providence  will  in  His  own  good  time  lighten  the  load. 
I  have  wanted  for  no  attention  that  kind  and  faithful  servants  could 
give,  and  my  dear  father  is  always  kind  in  his  way. 

*  Give  my  true  regards  to  all  your  circle.    It  is  unavailing  to  say 


I 

1852  )   ILLNESS  573 

gone  by  when  I  wrote  last,  came  back  again  with  a  heavy 
recoil ;  internal  congestion  ensued,  and  then  inflammation. 
I  had  severe  pain  in  my  right  side,  frequent  burning  and 
aching  in  my  chest;  sleep  almost  forsook  me,  or  would 
never  come  except  accompanied  by  ghastly  dreams ;  appe- 
tite vanished,  and  slow  fever  was  my  continual  companion. 
It  was  some  time  before  I  could  bring  myself  to  have 
recourse  to  medical  advice.  I  thought  my  lungs  were 
afllected,  and  could  feel  no  confidence  in  the  power  of 
medicine.  When  at  last,  however,  a  doctor  was  consulted, 
he  declared  my  lungs  and  chest  sound,  and  ascribed  all  my 
sufferings  to  derangement  of  the  liver,  on  which  organ  it 
seems  the  inflammation  had  fallen.    This  information  was 

how  glad  I  shall  be  when  I  can  with  a  good  conscience  once  more 
come  and  see  you  all.  I  do  not,  however,  anticipate  this  event  at  an 
early  date.' 

The  following  letter  was  addressed  to  Mr.  George  Smith  on  the 
same  date: — 

'  Brookroyd,  Birstall,  Leeds : 
*  January  29,  1852. 

*  My  dear  Sir, — I  have  rallied  very  rapidly  within  the  last  week, 
and,  as  the  address  of  this  letter  will  show  you,  am  now  from  home, 
staying  with  the  friend  I  told  you  of.  I  do  wish  now  I  had  de- 
layed my  departure  from  home  a  few  days  longer,  that  I  might 
have  shared  with  my  father  the  true  pleasure  of  receiving  you  at 
Haworth  Parsonage.  And  a  pleasure  your  visit  would  have  been, 
as  I  have  sometimes  dimly  imagined  but  never  ventured  to  realize. 
I  shall  be  returning  in  about  a  week,  but  if  you  must  make  your 
excursion  before  that  time,  and  if  you  come  northwards  and  would 
call  at  Brookroyd,  I  am  desired  to  tell  you  that  you  would  have  the 
warmest  Yorkshire  welcome.  My  friends  would  like  to  see  you. 
You  would  find  me  there,  but  not  exactly  ill  now ;  I  have  only  a  sort 
of  low  intermittent  fever  which  still  hangs  about  me,  but  which  the 
doctor  says  will  leave  me  as  I  grow  stronger.' 

'  They  are  hospitable  people  at  Brookroyd,  and  you  would  be  made 
comfortable.  I  and  my  friend  would  do  our  best  to  amuse  you  ;  it  is 
only  six  miles  distant  from  Leeds  ;  you  would  have  to  stay  all  night. 

•  Thank  your  mother  from  me  for  her  very  kind  note,  and  tell  her 
where  I  am  and  that  1  will  write  to  her  ere  long.  Send  me  a  line  to 
say  whether  we  shall  see  you,  and  when.' 


574  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


a  great  relief  to  my  dear  father^  as  well  as  to  myself;  but  I 
had  subsequently  rather  sharp  medical  discipline  to  un- 
dergo, and  was  much  reduced.  Though  not  yet  well, 
it  is  with  deep  thankfulness  that  I  can  say  I  am  greatly 
better.  My  sleep,  appetite,  and  strength  seem  all  re- 
turning/ 

It  was  a  great  interest  to  her  to  be  allowed  an  early 
reading  of  ^Esmond;'  and  she  expressed  her  thoughts  on 
the  subject  in  a  criticising  letter  to  Mr.  Smith,  who  had 
given  her  this  privilege. 

'February  14,1853. 
'  My  dear  Sir, — It  has  been  a  great  delight  to  me  to  read 
Mr.  Thackeray^s  work ;  and  I  so  seldom  now  express  my 
sense  of  kindness  that,  for  once,  you  must  permit  me, 
without  rebuke,  to  thank  you  for  a  pleasure  so  rare  and 
special.  Yet  I  am  not  going  to  praise  either  Mr.  Thackeray 
or  his  book.  I  have  read,  enjoyed,  been  interested,  and, 
after  all,  feel  full  as  much  ire  and  sorrow  as  gratitude  and 
admiration.  And  still  one  can  never  lay  down  a  book  of 
his  without  the  last  two  feelings  having  their  part,  be  the 
subject  of  treatment  what  it  may.  In  the  first  half  of  the 
book  what  chiefly  struck  me  was  the  wonderful  manner  in 
which  the  writer  throws  himself  into  the  spirit  and  letters 
of  the  times  whereof  he  treats ;  the  allusions,  the  illustra- 
tions, the  style,  all  seem  to  me  so  masterly  in  their  exact 
keeping,  their  harmonious  consistency,  their  nice,  natural 
truth,  their  pure  exemption  from  exaggeration.  No  second- 
rate  imitator  can  write  in  that  way  ;  no  coarse  scene-painter 
can  charm  us  with  an  allusion  so  delicate  and  perfect.  But 
what  bitter  satire,  what  relentless  dissection  of  diseased 
subjects!  Well,  and  this,  too,  is  right,  or  would  be  right, 
if  the  savage  surgeon  did  not  seem  so  fiercely  pleased  with 
his  work.  Thackeray  likes  to  dissect  an  ulcer  or  an  aneu- 
rism ;  he  has  pleasure  in  putting  his  cruel  knife  or  probe 
into  quivering  living  flesh.  Thackeray  would  not  like  all 
the  world  to  be  good  ;  no  great  satirist  would  like  society 
to  be  perfect. 


1852 


THACKERAY'S  ^ESMOND' 


575 


^  As  usual  he  is  unjust  to  women,  quite  unjust.  There 
is  hardly  any  punishment  he  does  not  deserve  for  making 
Lady  Castlewood  peep  through  a  keyhole,  listen  at  a  door, 
and  be  jealous  of  a  boy  and  a  milkmaid.  Many  other  things 
I  noticed  that,  for  my  part,  grieved  and  exasperated  me  as 
I  read  ;  but  then,  again,  came  passages  so  true,  so  deeply 
thought,  so  tenderly  felt,  one  could  not  help  forgiving  and 
admiring.* 


But  I  wish  he  could  be  told  not  to  care  much  for  dwelling 
on  the  political  or  religious  intrigues  of  the  times.  Thack- 
eray, in  his  heart,  does  not  value  political  or  religious  in- 
trigues of  any  age  or  date.  He  likes  to  show  us  human 
nature  at  home,  as  he  himself  daily  sees  it ;  his  wonderful 
observant  faculty  likes  to  be  in  action.  In  him  this  faculty 
is  a  sort  of  captain  and  leader ;  and  if  ever  any  passage  in 
his  writings  lacks  interest  it  is  when  this  master-faculty  is 
for  a  time  thrust  into  a  subordinate  position.  I  think  such 
is  the  case  in  the  former  half  of  the  present  volume.  Tow- 
ards the  middle  he  throws  off  restraint,  becomes  himself, 
and  is  strong  to  the  close.  Everything  now  depends  on  the 
second  and  third  volumes.  If,  in  pith  and  interest,  they 
fall  short  of  the  first,  a  true  success  cannot  ensue.  If  the 
continuation  be  an  improvement  upon  the  commencement,  if 
the  stream  gather  force  as  it  rolls,  Thackeray  will  triumph. 
Some  people  have  been  in  the  habit  of  terming  him  the  sec- 
ond writer  of  the  day  ;  it  just  depends  on  himself  whether 
or  not  these  critics  shall  be  justified  in  their  award.  He 
need  not  be  the  second.  God  made  him  second  to  no  man. 
If  I  were  he,  I  would  show  myself  as  I  am,  not  as  critics  re- 
port me  ;  at  any  rate  I  would  do  my  best.    Mr.  Thackeray 

^  The  omitted  passage  in  this  letter  to  Mr.  Smith  runs  as  follows: — 
'  I  wish  there  was  any  one  whose  word  he  cared  for  to  bid  him  God 

speed,  to  tell  him  to  go  on  courageously  with  the  book  ;  he  may  yet 

make  it  the  best  he  has  ever  written.' 


576  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


is  easy  and  indolent,  and  seldom  cares  to  do  hia  best.  Thank 
you  once  more  ;  and  believe  me  yours  sincerely, 

^C.  Broote/^ 

Miss  Bronte's  health  continued  such  that  she  could  not 
apply  herself  to  writing,  as  she  wished,  for  many  weeks 
after  the  serious  attack  from  which  she  had  suffered. 
There  was  not  very  much  to  cheer  her  in  the  few  events 
that  touched  her  interests  during  this  time.  She  heard  in 
March  of  the  death  of  a  friend^'s  relation  in  the  colonies ; 
and  we  see  something  of  what  was  the  corroding  dread  at 
her  heart. 

^The  news  of  Ellen's*  death  came  to  me  last  week  in  a 
letter  from  Mary  ;  a  long  letter,  which  wrung  my  heart  so, 
in  its  simple,  strong,  truthful  emotion,  I  have  only  vent- 
ured to  read  it  once.  It  ripped  up  half-scarred  wounds 
with  terrible  force.  The  death-bed  was  just  the  same — 
breath  failing,  &c.  She  fears  she  will  now,  in  her  dreary 
solitude,  become  a  stern,  harsh,  selfish  woman.''  This 
fear  struck  home ;  again  and  again  have  I  felt  it  for  my- 
self, and  what  is  my  position  to  Mary's  ?  May  God  help 
her,  as  God  only  can  help  !' 

^  There  is  a  further  letter  to  Mr.  Smith  dated  February  17  : — 

*I  do  not  think  my  note  would  do  Mr.  Thackeray  much  good,  but, 
as  (so  far  as  I  recollect)  it  contains  nothing  I  can  have  any  objection 
to  his  seeing,  you  are  quite  at  liberty  to  use  your  own  discretion  in 
the  matter.  What  is  said  in  that  note  I  would,  if  I  had  nerve,  and 
could  speak  without  hesitating  and  looking  like  an  idiot,  say  to  him- 
self, face  to  face,  prepared,  of  course,  for  any  amount  of  sarcasm  in 
reply,  prepared  too  for  those  misconstructions  which  are  the  least 
flattering  to  human  pride,  and  which  we  see  and  take  in  and  smile 
at  quietly  and  put  by  sadly  ;  little  ingenuities  in  which,  if  I  mistake 
not,  Mr.  Thackeray,  with  all  his  greatness,  excels. 

•  I  have  never  seen  the  Paris  Sketch  Book,  but  you  really  must  send 
nothing  more  for  the  present,  at  least  not  by  post ;  let  your  recklessly 
lavished  "queen's  heads"  repose  for  a  while.' 

2  This  was  Ellen  Taylor,  who  went  out  to  Wellington,  New  Zealand, 
to  be  a  companion  to  her  cousin,  Charlotte  Bronte's  old  school fellov/, 
Mary  Taylor. 


1853 


DEPRESSED  SPIRITS 


577 


Again  and  again  her  friend  urged  her  to  leave  home ;  nor 
were  various  invitations  wanting  to  enable  her  to  do  this, 
when  these  constitutional  accesses  of  low  spirits  preyed 
too  much  upon  her  in  her  solitude.  But  she  would  not 
allow  herself  any  such  indulgence,  unless  it  became  abso- 
lutely necessary  from  the  state  of  her  health.  She  dreaded 
the  perpetual  recourse  to  such  stimulants  as  change  of  scene 
and  society,  because  of  the  reaction  that  was  sure  to  follow. 
As  far  as  she  could  see  her  life  was  ordained  to  be  lonely, 
and  she  must  subdue  her  nature  to  her  life,  and,  if  possible, 
bring  the  two  into  harmony.  When  she  could  employ  her- 
self in  fiction  all  was  comparatively  well.  The  characters 
were  her  companions  in  the  quiet  hours,  which  she  spent 
utterly  alone,  unable  often  to  stir  out  of  doors  for  many 
days  together.  The  interests  of  the  persons  in  her  novels 
supplied  the  lack  of  interest  in  her  life ;  and  Memory  and 
Imagination  found  their  appropriate  work,  and  ceased  to 
prey  upon  her  vitals.  But  too  frequently  she  could  not 
write,  could  not  see  her  people,  nor  hear  them  speak ;  a 
great  mist  of  headache  had  blotted  them  out ;  they  were 
non-existent  to  her. 

This  was  the  case  all  through  the  present  spring  ;  and 
anxious  as  her  publishers  were  for  its  completion,  ^  Villette^ 
stood  still.  Even  her  letters  to  her  friends  are  scarce  and 
brief.  Here  and  there  I  find  a  sentence  in  them  which  can 
be  extracted,  and  which  is  worth  preserving.^ 

*  On  March  11  she  writes  to  Mr.  George  Smith — 

*I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  Mr.  Thackeray  is  getting  on,*'  as  he 
says,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  the  stimuhis  may  prove  more  than  tempo- 
rary. Is  not  the  publication  of  the  lectures  ''with  no  end  of  illustra- 
tions" a  most  commendable  idea?  I  should  think  every  one  who 
heard  them  delivered  will  like  to  read  them  over  again  at  leisure  ;  for 
my  own  part,  I  can  hardly  imagine  a  greater  treat,  were  it  only  for 
the  opportunity  thereby  afforded  of  fishing  for  faults  and  fallacies, 
and  of  fuming,  fretting,  and  brooding  at  ease  over  the  passages  that 
excited  one's  wrath.  In  listening  to  a  lecture  you  have  not  time  to  be 
angry  enough.  Mr.  Thackeray's  worship  of  his  Baal — Bel — Biilzebub 
(they  are  all  one),  his  false  god  of  a  Fielding — is  a  thing  I  greatly  de- 
37 


578  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


^Mary  G.'s  letter  is  very  interesting;  it  shows  a  mind 
one  cannot  but  truly  admire.  Compare  its  serene  trust- 
ing strength  with  poor  Mrs.  Joseph  Taylor's  vacillating 

sire  to  consider  deliberately.  In  that  red  book  of  yours  (which  I  re- 
turned long  ago)  there  was  a  portrait  of  the  author  of  Jonathan  Wild. 
In  the  cynical  prominence  of  the  under-jaw  one  reads  the  man.  It 
was  the  stamp  of  one  who  would  never  see  his  neighbours  (especially 
his  women  neighbours)  as  they  are,  but  as  they  might  be  under  the 
worst  circumstances.  In  Mr.  Thackeray's  own  nature  is  a  small  sea- 
soning of  this  virtue,  but  it  does  not  (I  hope)  prevail  throughout  his 
whole  being. 

*  I  have  read  the  Paris  Sketches  slowly,  and  by  regulated  allowances 
of  so  much  per  diem.  I  was  so  afraid  of  exhausting  the  precious  pro- 
vision too  quickly.  What  curious  traces  one  finds  (at  least  so  it  struck 
me)  of  a  somewhat  wild,  irregular,  and  reckless  life  being  led  at  that 
time  by  the  author  !  And  yet  how  good,  how  truthful  and  sagacious 
are  many  of  the  papers — such  as  touch  on  politics,  for  instance— and 
above  all  the  critical  articles  !  And  then  whatever  vinegar  and  gall, 
whatever  idle  froth,  a  book  of  Thackeray's  may  contain,  it  has  no 
dregs ;  you  never  go  and  wash  your  hands  when  you  put  it  down, 
nor  rinse  your  mouth  to  take  away  the  flavour  of  a  degraded  soul. 
Perverse  he  may  be  and  is,  but,  to  do  him  justice,  not  degraded — no, 
never. 

'  Is  the  first  number  of  Bleak  House  generally  admired  ?  I  liked 
the  Chancery  part,  but  when  it  passes  into  the  autobiographic  form, 
and  the  young  woman  who  announces  that  she  is  not  **  bright "  begins 
her  history,  it  seems  to  me  too  often  weak  and  twaddling;  an  amia- 
ble nature  is  caricatured,  not  faithfully  rendered,  in  Miss  Esther 
Summerson. 

'Did  I  tell  you  that  I  had  heard  from  Miss  Martineau,  and  that 
she  has  quite  thrown  aside  Oliver  Weld  and  calls  it  now  **a  foolish 
prank  "  ?  For  the  present  she  declines  turning  her  attention  to  any 
other  work  of  fiction ;  she  says  her  time  for  writing  fiction  is  past : 
this  may  be  so. 

*  Please  to  tell  Mr.  Williams  that  I  mean  (D.  V.)  to  look  over  Shirley 
soon  and  to  send  him  a  list  of  errata,  but  I  marvel  at  your  courage  in 
contemplating  a  reprint ;  I  cannot  conceive  a  score  pf  copies  being 
sold.' 

She  writes  again  on  March  21 — 

*  I  have  read  and  now  return  Mr.  Thackeray's  second  volume.  The 
complaint,  I  suppose,  will  be  that  there  is  too  little  story.  I  thought 
so  myself  in  reading  the  first  part  of  this  packet  of  manuscript.  I 


1853 


LETTER  ItO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 


579 


depeudence.  When  the  latter  was  in  her  first  burst  of 
happiness  I  never  renkember  the  feeling  finding  vent  in 
expressions  of  gratitudfe  to  God.  There  was  always  a  con- 
tinued claim  upon  yo^ur  sympathy  in  the  mistrust  and 
doubt  she  felt  of  her  own  bliss.  Mary  believes  ;  her  faith 
is  grateful  and  at  peace  :  yet,  while  happy  in  herself,  how 
thoughtful  she  is  for  others  V 

'  March  23,  1852. 

^  You  say,  dear  Ellen,  that  you  often  wish  I  would  chat 
on  paper,  as  you  do.  How  can  I  ?  Where  are  my  materi- 
als ?  Is  my  life  fertile  in  subjects  of  chat  ?  What  callers 
do  I  see  ?  What  visits  do  I  pay  ?  No,  you  must  chat,  and 
I  must  listen, and  say  Yes," and  ''No," and  ''Thank you  V 
for  five  minutes'  recreation.  ... 

'  I  am  amused  at  the  interest  you  take  in  politics.  Don^t 
expect  to  rouse  me  ;  to  me  all  Ministries  and  all  Oppositions 
seem  to  be  pretty  much  alike.  Disraeli  was  factious  as 
leader  of  the  Opposition  ;  Lord  John  Russell  is  going  to  be 
factious,  now  that  he  has  stepped  into  Disraeli's  shoes.  Lord 
Derby's  "Christian  love  and  spirit ''  is  worth  three  halfpence 
farthing.* 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ. 

'  March  25,  1852. 

'My  dear  Sir, — Mr.  Smith  intimated  a  short  time  since 
that  he  had  some  thoughts  of  publishing  a  reprint  of 

feit  tedium  in  the  first  campaign  of  Henry  Esmond  ;  tlie  second  and 
third  seemed  to  me  to  kindle  tlie  spirit.  The  character  of  Marlbor- 
ough I  thought  a  masterly  piece  of  writing.  But  where  is  the  use  of 
giving  one's  broken  impressions  of  such  a  book  ?  It  ought  not  to  be 
judged  piecemeal. 

*  You  are  kind  enough  to  inquire  after  Currer  Bell's  health.  Thank 
you  ;  he  is  better  ;  latterly  he  has  been  much  better  ;  if  he  could  con- 
tinue so  well  he  would  look  up  yet ;  but,  I  say  again,  expect  no  good 
of  him  this  summer. 

'  I  suppose  that  Mr.  Forster,  about  whom  you  inquire,  is  a  Mr  P 
from  the  neighbourhood  of  Bradford  ;  he  wrote  an  answer  to  Macau- 
lay's  attack  on  Penn  on  the  Marslies  ;  he  is,  or  was,  a  Quaker  himself ; 
he  lias  published  also  letters  in  the  Leader-  on  Communion  and  the 
Associative  Principle.' 


580 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Shirley/'  Having  revised  the  work,  I  now  enclose  the 
errata.  I  have  likewise  sent  off  to-day,  per  rail,  a  return 
box  of  Cornhill  books. 

have  lately  read,  with  great  pleasure,  ^^The  Two 
Families.'"^  This  work,  it  seems,  should  have  reached 
me  in  January ;  but,  owing  to  a  mistake,  it  was  detained  at 
the  Dead  Letter  Office,  and  lay  there  nearly  two  months. 
I  liked  the  commencement  very  much  ;  the  close  seemed 
to  me  scarcely  equal  to  Rose  Douglas."'  I  thought  the 
authoress  committed  a  mistake  in  shifting  the  main  interest 
from  the  two  personages  on  whom  it  first  rests— viz.  Ben 
Wilson  and  Mary — toother  characters  of  quite  inferior  con- 
ception. Had  she  made  Ben  and  Mary  her  hero  and  hero- 
ine, and  continued  the  development  of  their  fortunes  and 
characters  in  the  same  truthful  natural  vein  in  which  she 
commences  it,  an  excellent,  even  an  original  book  might 
have  been  the  result.  As  for  Lilias  and  Ronald,  they  are 
mere  romantic  figments,  with  nothing  of  the  genuine  Scot- 
tish peasant  about  them  ;  they  do  not  even  speak  the  Cale- 
donian dialect ;  they  palaver  like  a  fine  lady  and  gentleman. 

ought  long  since  to  have  acknowledged  the  gratifi- 
cation with  which  I  read  Miss  Kavanagh's  Women  of 
Christianity."  Her  charity  and  (on  the  whole)  her  impar- 
tiality are  very  beautiful.  She  touches,  indeed,  with  too 
gentle  a  hand  the  theme  of  Elizabeth  of  Hungary  ;  and,  in 
her  own  mind,  she  evidently  misconstrues  the  fact  of 
Protestant  charities  seeming  to  be  fewer  than  Catholic.  She 
forgets,  or  does  not  know,  that  Protestantism  is  a  quieter 
creed  than  Romanism ;  as  it  does  not  clothe  its  priesthood 
in  scarlet,  so  neither  does  it  set  up  its  good  women  for 
saints,  canonise  their  names,  and  proclaim  their  good 
works.  In  the  records  of  man  their  almsgiving  will  not, 
perhaps,  be  found  registered,  but  heaven  has  its  account  as 
well  as  earth. 

^With  kind  regards  to  yourself  and  family,  who,  I  trust, 

»  Tlte  Two  Families  and  Rose  Douglas  were  both  published  in  1852. 
Their  author  was  Mrs.  S.  R.  Whitehead. 


1853 


LITERARY  CRITICISM 


581 


have  all  safely  weathered  the  rough  winter  lately  past^  as 
well  as  the  east  winds,  which  are  still  nipping  our  spring  in 
Yorkshire,  I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  yours  sincerely, 

'C.  Brokte/ 

*  April  3,  1852. 

^My  dear  Sir, — The  box  arrived  quite  safely,  and  I  very 
much  thank  you  for  the  contents,  which  are  most  kindly 
selected. 

^  As  you  wished  me  to  say  what  I  thought  of  The  School 
for  Fathers, I  hastened  to  read  it.  The  book  seems  to 
me  clever,  interesting,  very  amusing,  and  likely  to  please 
generally.  There  is  a  merit  in  the  choice  of  ground  which 
is  not  yet  too  hackneyed ;  the  comparative  freshness  of 
subject,  character,  and  epoch  gives  the  tale  a  certain  attrac- 
tiveness. There  is  also,  I  think,  a  graphic  rendering  of 
situations,  and  a  lively  talent  for  describing  whatever  is 
visible  and  tangible — what  the  eye  meets  on  the  surface 
of  things.  The  humour  appears  to  me  such  as  would 
answer  well  on  the  stage  ;  most  of  the  scenes  seem  to 
demand  dramatic  accessories  to  give  them  their  full  effect. 
But  I  think  one  cannot  with  justice  bestow  higher  praise 
than  this.  To  speak  candidly,  I  felt,  in  reading  the  tale, 
a  wondrous  hollowness  in  the  moral  and  sentiment ;  a 
strange  dilettante  shallowness  in  the  purpose  and  feeling. 
After  all  Jack^^  is  not  much  better  than  a  Tony  Lump- 
kin,^^  and  there  is  no  very  great  breadth  of  choice  between 
the  clown  he  is  and  the  fop  his  father  would  have  made 
him.  The  grossly  material  life  of  the  old  English  fox-hunter 
and  the  frivolous  existence  of  the  fine  gentleman  present 
extremes,  each  in  its  way  so  repugnant  that  one  feels  half 
inclined  to  smile  when  called  upon  to  sentimentalize  over 
the  lot  of  a  youth  forced  to  pass  from  one  to  the  other  ; 
torn  from  the  stables,  to  be  ushered,  perhaps,  into  the  ball- 

*  The  School  for  Fathers  was  written  by  Josepha  Gulston  under  the 
pseudonym  of  'Talbot  Gwynne.*  She  also  wrote  Young  Singleton, 
The  School  for  Dreamers,  Silas  Barnstarke,  and  Nanette  and  her  Lovers. 


582 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


room.  Jack  dies  mournfully  indeed,  and  you  are  sorry  for 
the  poor  fellow's  untimely  end  ;  but  you  cannot  forget  that 
if  he  had  not  been  thrust  into  the  way  of  Colonel  Penrud- 
dock^s  weapon  he  might  possibly  have  broken  his  neck  in 
a  fox-hunt.  The  character  of  Sir  Thomas  Warren  is  ex- 
cellent;  consistent  throughout.  That  of  Mr.  Addison  not 
bad,  but  sketchy,  a  mere  outline — wanting  colour  and 
finish.  The  man^s  portrait  is  there,  and  his  costume,  and 
fragmentary  anecdotes  of  his  life  ;  but  where  is  the  man's 
nature — soul  and  self  ?  I  say  nothing  about  the  female 
characters — not  one  word  ;  only  that  Lydia  seems  to  me 
like  a  pretty  little  actress,  prettily  dressed,  gracefully  ap- 
pearing and  disappearing^  and  reappearing  in  a  genteel 
comedy,  assuming  the  proper  sentiments  of  her  part  with 
all  due  tact  and  naivete  and — that  is  all. 

^  Your  description  of  the  model  man  of  business  is  true 
enough,  I  doubt  not ;  but  we  will  not  fear  that  society 
will  ever  be  brought  quite  to  this  standard  ;  human  nature 
(bad  as  it  is)  has,  after  all,  elements  that  forbid  it.  But 
the  very  tendency  to  such  a  consummation — the  marked 
tendency,  I  fear,  of  the  day — produces,  no  doubt,  cruel 
suffering.  Yet,  when  the  evil  of  competition  passes  a  cer- 
tain limit,  must  it  not  in  time  work  its  own  cure  ?  I  sup- 
pose it  will,  but  then  through  some  convulsed  crisis,  shat- 
tering all  around  it  like  an  earthquake.  Meantime  for  how 
many  is  life  made  a  struggle,  enjoyment  and  rest  curtailed  ; 
labour  terribly  enhanced  beyond  almost  what  nature  can 
bear!  I  often  think  that  this  world  would  be  the  most 
terrible  of  enigmas,  were  it  not  for  the  firm  belief  that 
there  is  a  world  to  come,  where  conscientious  effort  and 
patient  pain  will  meet  their  reward. 

*  Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir,  sincerely  yours,    C.  Bronte.' 

A  letter  to  her  old  Brussels  schoolfellow  gives  a  short 
retrospect  of  the  dreary  winter  she  had  passed  through.* 

'  This  letter  to  Miss  Laetitia  Wheelwright  commences— 

2  Dear  Lsetitia,— Your  last  letter  gave  me  ranch  concern.  I  had  hoped 


1853 


A  DREARY  WINTER 


583 


*Haworth,  April  12,  1852. 
^ .  .  .  I  straggled  through  the  winter,  and  the  early  part 
of  the  spring,  often  with  great  difficulty.  My  friend^ 
stayed  with  me  a  few  days  in  the  early  part  of  January  ; 
she  could  not  be  spared  longer.  I  was  better  during  her 
visit,  but  had  a  relapse  soon  after  she  left  me,  which  reduced 
my  strength  very  much.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  soli- 
tude of  my  position  fearfully  aggravated  its  other  evils.  Some 
long  stormy  days  and  nights  there  were,  when  I  felt  such  a 
craving  for  support  and  companionship  as  I  cannot  express. 
Sleepless,  I  lay  awake  night  after  night,  weak  and  unable  to 
occupy  myself.  I  sat  in  my  chair  day  after  day,  the  saddest 
memories  my  only  company.  It  was  a  time  I  shall  never 
forget ;  but  God  sent  it,  and  it  must  have  been  for  the 
best. 

^  I  am  better  now  ;  and  very  grateful  do  I  feel  for  the 
restoration  of  tolerable  health  ;  but,  as  if  there  was  always 
to  be  some  affliction,  papa,  who  enjoyed  wonderful  health 
during  the  whole  winter,  is  ailing  with  his  spring  attack  of 
bronchitis.  I  earnestly  trust  it  may  pass  over  in  the  com- 
paratively ameliorated  form  in  which  it  has  hitherto  shown 
itself. 

^  Let  me  not  forget  to  answer  your  question  about  the 
cataract.  Tell  your  papa  that  my  father  was  seventy  at 
the  time  he  underwent  an  operation ;  he  was  most  reluctant 
to  try  the  experiment ;  could  not  believe  that,  at  his  age, 
and  with  his  want  of  robust  strength,  it  would  succeed.  I 
was  obliged  to  be  very  decided  in  the  matter,  and  to  act 
entirely  on  my  own  responsibility.  Nearly  six  years  have 
now  elapsed  since  the  cataract  was  extracted  (it  was  not 

you  were  long  ere  this  restored  to  your  usual  health,  and  it  both  pained 
and  surprised  me  to  hear  that  you  still  suffer  so  much  from  debility.  I 
cannot  help  thinking  your  constitution  is  naturally  sound  and  healthy. 
Can  it  be  the  air  of  London  which  disagrees  with  you  ?  For  myself,  I 
struggled  through  the  winter.  .  . 

^  That  is,  Miss  Ellen  Nussey.  Miss  Wheelwright  and  Miss  Nussey 
never  met. 


584 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


merely  depressed);  he  has  never  once  during  that  time  re- 
gretted the  step,  and  a  day  seldom  passes  that  he  does  not 
express  gratitude  and  pleasure  at  the  restoration  of  that 
inestimable  privilege  of  vision  whose  loss  he  once  knew/ 

I  had  given  Miss  Bronte,  in  one  of  my  letters,  an  outline 
of  the  story  on  which  I  was  then  engaged,  and  in  reply  she 
says — 

^  The  sketch  you  give  of  your  work  (respecting  which  I 
am,  of  course,  dumb)  seBms  to  me  very  noble  ;  and  its  pur- 
pose may  be  as  useful  in  practical  result  as  it  is  high  and 
just  in  theoretical  tendency.  Such  a  book  may  restore 
hope  and  energy  to  many  who  thought  they  had  forfeited 
their  right  to  both,  and  open  a  clear  course  for  honourable 
effort  to  some  who  deemed  that  they  and  all  honour  had 
parted  company  in  this  world. 

^  Yet — hear  my  protest! 

^  Why  should  she  die  ?  Why  are  we  to  shut  up  the  book 
weeping  ? 

'  My  heart  fails  me  already  at  the  thought  of  the  pang  it 
will  have  to  undergo.  And  yet  you  must  follow  the  im- 
pulse of  your  own  inspiration.  If  that  commands  the  slay- 
ing of  the  victim,  no  bystander  has  a  right  to  put  out  his 
hand  to  stay  the  sacrificial  knife ;  but  I  hold  you  a  stern 
priestess  in  these  matters.^ 

As  the  milder  weather  came  on  her  health  improved, 
and  her  power  of  writing  increased.  She  set  herself  with 
redoubled  vigour  to  the  work  before  her,  and  denied  her- 
self pleasure  for  the  purpose  of  steady  labour.  Hence  she 
writes  to  her  friend — 

*May  11. 

'  Dear  Ellen, — I  must  adhere  to  my  resolution  of  neither 
visiting  nor  being  visited  at  present.  Stay  you  quietly  at 
B(rookroyd)  till  you  go  into  Sussex,  as  I  shall  stay  at  Ha- 
worth  ;  as  sincere  a  farewell  can  be  taken  with  the  heart 
as  with  the  lips,  and  perhaps  less  painful.    I  am  glad  the 


1852 


LETTER  TO  ELLEN 


585 


weather  is  changed  ;  the  return  of  the  south-west  wind  suits 
me ;  but  I  hope  you  have  no  cause  to  regret  the  departure 
of  your  favourite  east  wind.  ...  I  read  in  a  French  book 
lately  a  sentence  to  this  effect,  that  marriage  might  be 
defined  as  the  state  of  twofold  selfishness.'^  Let  the  single 
therefore  take  comfort.  Thank  you  for  Mary  G.^s  letter. 
She  does  seem  most  happy ;  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
much  more  real,  lasting,  and  better  warranted  her  happi- 
ness seems  than  ever  Amelia^s  did.  I  think  so  much  of  it 
is  in  herself,  and  her  own  serene,  pure,  trusting,  religious 
nature.  Amelia^s  always  gives  me  the  idea  of  a  vacillating, 
unsteady  rapture,  entirely  dependent  on  circumstances 
with  all  their  fluctuations.  If  Mary  lives  to  be  a  mother, 
you  will  then  see  a  greater  difference. 

'  I  wish  you,  dear  Ellen,  all  health  and  enjoyment  in 
your  visit ;  and,  as  far  as  one  can  judge  at  present,  there 
seems  a  fair  prospect  of  the  wish  being  realised. — Yours 
sincerely,  0.  Brokte.' 


CHAPTER  XXV 


The  reader  will  remember  that  Anne  Bronte  had  been 
interred  in  the  churchyard  of  the  Old  Church  at  Scar- 
borough. Charlotte  had  left  directions  for  a  tombstone  to 
be  placed  over  her ;  but  many  a  time  during  the  solitude 
of  the  past  winter  her  sad,  anxious  thoughts  had  revisited 
the  scene  of  that  last  great  sorrow,  and  she  had  wondered 
whether  all  decent  services  had  been  rendered  to  the 
memory  of  the  dead,  until  at  last  she  came  to  a  silent 
resolution  to  go  and  see  for  herself  whether  the  stone  and 
inscription  were  in  a  satisfactory  state.* 

*  Cliff  House,  Filey  :  June  6,  1852. 
^  Dear  Ellen, — I  am  at  Filey,  utterly  alone.  Do  not  be 
angry  ;  the  step  is  right.  I  considered  it,  and  resolved  on 
it  with  due  deliberation.  Change  of  air  was  necessary  ; 
there  were  reasons  why  I  should  not  go  to  the  south,  and 
why  I  should  come  here.  On  Friday  I  went  to  Scar- 
borough, visited  the  churchyard  and  stone.  It  must  be 
refaced  and  relettered  ;  there  are  five  errors.^  I  gave  the 
necessary  directions.  That  duty,  then,  is  done  ;  long  has 
it  lain  heavy  on  my  mind  ;  and  that  was  a  pilgrimage  I 
felt  I  could  only  make  alone. 

^  On  May  22  she  writes  to  Mr.  Smith— 

•  Your  note  enclosing  a  bank  post  bill  for  the  amount  of  my  divi- 
dend readied  me  safely.  Occupied  as  you  are,  I  will  not  at  present 
detain  you  by  more  than  an  acknowledgment.  Should  you  write  to 
me  in  the  course  of  the  next  fortnight  or  three  weeks,  my  address  will 
be  ClifiC  House,  Filey,  East  Riding,  Yorkshire.  It  is  a  small  watering- 
place  on  the  coast  where  I  propose  going  for  change  of  air.' 

2  For  the  corrected  inscription  see  note,  p.  419. 


1S53 


STAY  AT  FILEY 


587 


^  I  am  in  our  old  lodgings  at  Mrs.  Smithes ;  not,  how- 
ever, iu  the  same  rooms,  but  in  less  expensive  apartments. 
They  seemed  glad  to  see  me,  remembered  you  and  me 
very  well,  and  seemingly  with  great  good-will.  The  daugh- 
ter who  used  to  wait  on  us  is  just  married.  Filey  seems 
to  me  much  altered  ;  more  lodging-houses — some  of  them 
very  handsome  —  have  been  built ;  the  sea  has  all  its  old 
grandeur.  I  walk  on  the  sands  a  good  deal,  and  try  not  to 
feel  desolate  and  melancholy.  How  sorely  my  heart  longs 
for  you  I  need  not  say.  I  have  bathed  once  :  it  seemed 
to  do  me  good.  I  may,  perhaps,  stay  here  a  fortnight. 
There  are  as  yet  scarcely  any  visitors.  A  Lady  Wenlock 
is  staying  at  the  large  house  of  which  you  used  so  vigi- 
lantly to  observe  the  inmates.  One  day  I  set  out  with  in- 
tent to  trudge  to  Filey  Bridge,  but  was  frightened  back  by 
two  cows.  I  mean  to  try  again  some  morning.  I  left 
papa  well.  I  have  been  a  good  deal  troubled  with,  head- 
ache, and  with  some  pain  in  the  side,  since  I  came  here, 
but  I  feel  that  this  has  been  owing  to  the  cold  wind,  for 
very  cold  has  it  been  till  lately  ;  at  present  I  feel  better. 
Shall  I  send  the  papers  to  you  as  usual  ?  Write  again 
directly,  and  tell  me  this,  and  anything  and  everything  else 
that  comes  into  your  mind. — Believe  me  yours  faithfully, 

^C.  Bronte.' 

•Filey,  June  16,  1852. 
^  Dear  Ellen, — Be  quite  easy  about  me.  I  really  think 
I  am  better  for  my  stay  at  Filey  ;  that  I  have  derived  more 
benelBt  from  it  than  I  dared  to  anticipate.  I  believe,  could 
I  stay  here  two  months,  and  enjoy  something  like  social 
cheerfulness  as  well  as  exercise  and  good  air,  my  health 
would  be  quite  renewed.  This,  however,  cannot  possibly 
be  ;  but  I  am  most  thankful  for  the  good  received.  I  stay 
here  another  week. 

return  E.  S.'s  letter.  I  am  sorry  for  her;  I  believe 
she  suffers ;  but  I  do  not  much  like  her  style  of  expressing 
herself.  .  .  .  Grief  as  well  as  joy  manifests  itself  in  most 


588 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


different  ways  in  different  people  ;  and  I  doubt  not  she  is 
sincere  and  in  earnest  when  she  talks  of  her  precious 
sainted  father;"  but  I  could  wish  she  used  simpler  lan- 
guage/ 

Soon  after  her  return  from  Filey  she  was  alarmed  by  a 
very  serious  and  sharp  attack  of  illness  with  which  Mr. 
Bronte  was  seized.  There  was  some  fear,  for  a  few  days, 
that  his  sight  was  permanently  lost,  and  his  spirits  sank 
painfully  under  this  dread. 

^This  prostration  of  spirits,^  writes  his  daughter,  ^  which 
accompanies  anything  like  a  relapse,  is  almost  the  most 
difficult  point  to  manage.  Dear  Ellen,  you  are  tenderly 
kind  in  oft'ering  your  society  ;  but  rest  very  tranquil  where 
you  are  ;  be  fully  assured  that  it  is  not  now,  nor  under 
present  circumstances,  that  I  feel  the  lack  either  of  society 
or  occupation  ;  my  time  is  pretty  well  filled  up,  and  my 
thoughts  appropriated.  .  .  .  I  ca.  not  permit  myself  to  com- 
ment much  on  the  chief  contents  of  your  last  ;  advice  is  not 
necessary :  as  far  as  I  can  judge  you  seem  hitherto  enabled 
to  take  these  trials  in  a  good  and  wise  spirit.  I  can  only 
pray  that  such  combined  strength  and  resignation  may  be 
continued  to  you.  Submission,  courage,  exertion,  when 
practicable — these  seem  to  be  the  weapons  with  which  we 
must  fight  life's  long  battle. 

I  suppose  that,  during  the  very  time  when  her  thoughts 
were  thus  fully  occupied  with  anxiety  for  her  father,  she 
received  some  letter.?  from  her  publishers,  making  inquiry 
as  to  the  progress  of  the  work  which  they  knew  she  had  in 
hand,  as  I  find  the  following  letter  to  Mr.  Williams,  bearing 
reference  to  some  of  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder,  &  Oo/s  proposed 
arrangements : — 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ. 

*  July  28.  1852. 

^  My  dear  Sir, — Is  it  in  contemplation  to  publish  the  new 
edition  of    Shirley    soon  ?  Would  it  not  be  better  to  defer 


i 

[  1853 


MR.  BRONTE  CONVALESCENCE 


689 


it  for  a  time?  In  reference  to  a  part  of  your  letter^  permit 
me  to  express  this  wish — and  I  trust  in  so  doing  I  shall  not 
be  regarded  as  stepping  out  of  my  position  as  an  author, 
and  encroaching  on  the  arrangements  of  business — viz.  that 
no  announcement  of  a  new  work  by  the  author  of  Jane 
Eyre  shall  be  made  till  the  MS.  of  such  work  is  actually 
in  my  publisher's  hands.  Perhaps  we  are  none  of  us  justi- 
fied in  speaking  very  decidedly  where  the  future  is  con- 
cerned; but  for  some  too  much  caution  in  such  calculations 
can  scarcely  be  observed:  amongst  this  number  I  must  class 
myself.  Nor  in  doing  so  can  I  assume  an  apologetic  tone. 
He  does  right  who  does  his  best. 

^  Last  autumn  I  got  on  for  a  time  quickly.  I  ventured 
to  look  forward  to  spring  as  the  period  of  publication :  my 
health  gave  way ;  I  passed  such  a  winter  as,  having  been 
once  experienced,  will  never  be  forgotten.  The  spring 
proved  little  better  than  a  protraction  of  trial.  The  warm 
weather  and  a  visit  to  the  sea  have  done  me  much  good 
physically ;  but  as  yet  I  have  recovered  neither  elasticity 
of  animal  spirits  nor  flow  of  the  power  of  composition.  And 
if  it  were  otherwise  the  difference  would  be  of  no  avail  ;  my 
time  and  thoughts  are  at  present  taken  up  with  close  at- 
tendance on  my  father,  whose  health  is  just  now  in  a  very 
critical  state,  the  heat  of  the  weather  having  produced  de- 
termination of  blood  to  the  head. — I  am  yours  sincerely, 

'  C.  BUONTE.' 

Before  the  end  of  August  Mr.  Bronte's  convalescence 
became  quite  established,  and  he  was  anxious  to  resume 
his  duties  for  some  time  before  his  careful  daughter  would 
permit  him.^ 

*  Charlotte  Bronte  writes  to  Mr.  George  Smith  on  August  19 — 
'  I  am  thankful  to  say  that  m}^  father  is  now  much  better,  though 
still  weak.  The  danger  is,  I  trust,  subsided,  but  I  am  warned  that  the 
attack  has  been  of  an  apoplectic  character,  a  circumstance  which,  at 
his  age,  brings  anxieties  not  easily  dispelled.  His  mind,  however, 
has  not  been  in  the  least  clouded,  and  the  muscular  paralysis  which 
existed  for  a  time  seems  quite  gone  now.    I  am  assured  that  with  his 


590 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


On  September  14  the  ^  Great  Duke '  died.  He  had  been, 
as  we  have  seen,  her  hero  from  childhood  ;  but  I  find  no 
further  reference  to  him  at  this  time  than  what  is  given  in 
the  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  her  friend  :^ — 

^  I  do  hope  and  believe  the  changes  you  have  been  hav- 
ing this  summer  will  do  you  permanent  good,  notwith- 
standing the  pain  with  which  they  have  been  too  often 
mingled.  Yet  I  feel  glad  that  you  are  soon  coming  home; 
and  I  really  must  not  trust  myself  to  say  how  much  I  wish 
the  time  were  come  when,  without  let  or  hindrance,  I 
could  once  more  welcome  you  to  Haworth.  But  oh !  I 
don^t  get  on  :  I  feel  fretted  —  incapable  —  sometimes  very 
low.  However  at  present  the  subject  must  not  be  dwelt 
upon  ;  it  presses  me  too  hardly,  nearly,  and  painfully. 
Less  than  ever  can  I  taste  or  know  pleasure  till  this  work 

excellent  constitution  there  is  every  prospect  that  a  return  of  the 
seizure  may  be  long  delayed. 

*  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  your  mother  is  at  Woodford,  as  I  know  how 
much  she  is  attached  to  the  country  and  its  quiet  pleasures  ;  your  sis- 
ters also  will,  no  doubt,  enjoy  the  change  at  this  season.  I  do  not 
wonder  that  you  all  felt  regret  at  parting  from  Alick  ;  he  seemed  to 
me  an  amiable  boy.  It  is  to  be  hoped,  however,  that  the  climate  of 
Bombay  will  agree  with  him,  and  if  it  should  not  less  than  a  month 
will  bring  him  once  more  home. 

*  I  had  better  refrain  from  commenting  on  the  brief  glimpse  you 
give  of  what  your  own  labours  have  lately  been.  Surely  you  will 
now  take  some  rest.  Such  systematic  overtasking  of  mind  and  body 
may  be  borne  for  a  time  by  some  constitutions,  but  in  the  end  it  tells 
on  the  most  vigorous.  If  physical  strength  stands  it  out,  the  brain 
suffers,  and  where  the  brain  is  continually  irritated  I  believe  both 
peace  of  mind  and  health  of  body  are  endangered. 

*  Shirley  looks  very  respectable  in  her  new  attire. 

*  Do  not  send  the  third  volume  of  Mr.  Thackeray's  MS.  I  would 
rather  wait  to  see  it  in  print.  It  will  be  something  to  look  forward  to. 

*My  stay  at  the  seaside  was  of  great  use.  As  to  last  winter  and 
spring,  they  are  quite  gone,  and  I  have  no  wish  to  dwell  upon  their 
passage. 

*  Give  my  kind  remembrances  to  your  mother  and  sisters  when  you 
see  them.' 

^  Letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  headed  'Friday '  (1852). 


1853 


ELLEN'S  COMPANIONSHIP 


591 


is  wound  up.  And  yet  I  often  sit  up  in  bed  at  night, 
thinking  of  and  wishing  for  you.  Thank  you  for  the 
Times  what  it  said  on  the  mighty  and  mournful  sub- 
ject was  ivell  said.  All  at  once  the  whole  nation  seems  to 
take  a  just  view  of  that  great  character.  There  was  a  re- 
view too  of  an  American  book,  which  I  was  glad  to  see. 
Eead  Uncle  Tom^s  Cabin  probably,  though,  you  have 
read  it. 

'  Papa^s  health  continues  satisfactory,  thank  God  !  As 
for  me,  my  wretched  liver  has  been  disordered  again  of 
late,  but  I  hope  it  is  now  going  to  be  on  better  behaviour  ; 
it  hinders  me  in  working  —  depresses  both  power  and  tone 
of  feeling.  I  must  expect  this  derangement  from  time  to 
time.^ 

Haworth  was  in  an  unhealthy  state,  as  usual;  and  both 
Miss  Bronte  and  Tabby  suffered  severely  from  the  prevail- 
ing epidemics.  The  former  was  long  in  shaking  off  the 
effects  of  this  illness.  In  vain  she  resolved  against  allow- 
ing herself  any  society  or  change  of  scene  until  she  had 
accomplished  her  labour.  She  was  too  ill  to  write  ;  and 
with  illness  came  on  the  old  heaviness  of  heart,  recol- 
lections of  the  past,  and  anticipations  of  the  future.  At 
last  Mr.  Bronte  expressed  so  strong  a  wish  that  her  friend 
should  be  asked  to  visit  her,  and  she  felt  some  little  re- 
freshment so  absolutely  necessary,  that  on  October  9  she 
begged  her  to  come  to  Haworth,  just  for  a  single  week. 

'I  thought  I  would  persist  in  denying  myself  till  I  had 
done  my  work,  but  I  find  it  won't  do  ;  the  matter  refuses 
to  progress,  and  this  excessive  solitude  presses  too  heavily; 
so  let  me  see  your  dear  face,  Ellen,  just  for  one  reviving 
week.' 

But  she  would  only  accept  the  company  of  her  friend 
for  the  exact  time  specified.  She  thus  writes  to  Miss  Wooler 
on  October  21 : — 

^  Ellen  has  only  been  my  companion  one  little  week.  I 


592 


LIFE  0¥  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


would  not  have  her  any  longer,  for  I  am  disgusted  with 
myself  and  my  delays,  and  consider  it  was  a  weak  yielding 
to  temptation  in  me  to  send  for  her  at  all ;  but  in  truth 
my  spirits  were  getting  low — prostrate  sometimes — and  she 
has  done  me  inexpressible  good.  I  wonder  when  I  shall  see 
you  at  Haworth  again  ;  both  my  father  and  the  servants 
have  again  and  again  insinuated  a  distinct  wish  that  you 
should  be  requested  to  come  in  the  course  of  the  summer 
and  autumn,  but  I  have  always  turned  rather  a  deaf  ear  ; 
''Not  yet/'  was  my  thought,  ''I  want  first  to  be  free 
work  first,  then  pleasure/ 

Miss  Nussey's  visit  had  done  her  much  good.  Pleasant 
companionship  during  the  day  produced,  for  the  time,  the 
unusual  blessing  of  calm  repose  at  night ;  and,  after  her 
friend's  departure,  she  was  well  enough  to  'fall  to  busi- 
ness,' and  write  away,  almost  incessantly,  at  her  story  of 
'  Villette,'  now  drawing  to  a  conclusion.  The  following 
letter  to  Mr.  Smith  seems  to  have  accompanied  the  first 
part  of  the  MS.  :— 

*  October  30, 1852. 
'  My  dear  Sir,  —  You  must  notify  honestly  what  you 
think  of  "Villette"  when  you  have  read  it.  I  can  hardly 
tell  you  how  I  hunger  to  hear  some  opinion  beside  my  own, 
and  how  I  have  sometimes  desponded,  and  almost  de- 
spaired, because  there  was  no  one  to  whom  to  read  a  line, 
or  of  whom  to  ask  a  counsel.  * '  J ane  Eyre  "  was  not  written 
under  such  circumstances,  nor  were  two-thirds  of  "Shir- 
ley." I  got  so  miserable  about  it,  I  could  bear  no  allusion 
to  the  book.  It  is  not  finished  yet ;  but  now  I  hope.  As 
to  the  anonymous  publication,  I  have  this  to  say :  If  the 
withholding  of  the  author's  name  should  tend  materially 
to  injure  the  publisher's  interest,  to  interfere  with  booksell- 
ers' orders,  &c.,  I  would  not  press  the  point ;  but  if  no  such 
detriment  is  contingent  I  should  be  most  thankful  for  the 
sheltering  shadow  of  an  incognito.  I  seem  to  dread  the 
advertisements  —  the  large-lettered  "  Currer  Bell's  New 


1852  HER  LETTER  TO  MR.  SMITH  593 


Novel/^  or  ^^New  Work  by  the  Author  of  ^  Jane  Eyre/"' 
These^  however,  I  feel  well  enough,  are  the  transcendental- 
isms of  a  retired  wretch  ;  so  you  must  speak  frankly.  ...  I 
shall  be  glad  to  see  Colonel  Esmond."  My  objection 
to  the  second  volume  lay  here  :  I  thought  it  contained  de-  ^ 
cidedly  too  much  History — too  little  Story.' 

In  another  letter  referring  to  ^Esmond  '  she  uses  the  fol- 
lowing words  :— 

'  The  third  volume  seemed  to  me  to  possess  the  most 
sparkle,  impetus,  and  interest.  Of  the  first  and  second 
my  judgment  was  that  parts  of  them  were  admirable  ;  but 
there  was  the  fault  of  containing  too  much  History — too 
little  Story.  I  hold  that  a  work  of  fiction  ought  to  be  a 
work  of  creation  ;  that  the  real  should  be  sparingly  intro- 
duced in  pages  dedicated  to  the  ideal.  Plain  household 
bread  is  a  far  more  wholesome  and  necessary  thing  than 
cake ;  yet  who  would  like  to  see  the  brown  loaf  placed 
on  the  table  for  dessert  ?  In  the  second  volume  the  au- 
thor gives  us  an  ample  supply  of  excellent  brown  bread;  in 
his  third,  only  such  a  portion  as  gives  substance,  like  the 
crumbs  of  bread  in  a  well-made,  not  too  rich,  plum  pud- 
ding.' 

Her  letter  to  Mr.  Smith  containing  the  allusion  to  ^  Es- 
mond,' which  reminded  me  of  the  quotation  just  given, 
continues — 

'  You  will  see  that  Villette  "  touches  on  no  matter  of 
public  interest.  I  cannot  write  books  handling  the  topics 
of  the  day  ;  it  is  of  no  use  trying.  Nor  can  I  write  a  book 
for  its  moral.  Nor  can  I  take  up  a  philanthropic  scheme, 
though  I  honour  philanthropy  ;  and  voluntarily  and  sin- 
cerely veil  my  face  before  such  a  mighty  subject  as  that 
handled  in  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe's  work,  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin."  To  manage  these  great  matters  rightly  they  must 
be  long  and  practically  studied — their  bearings  known  in- 


594  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


timately,  and  their  evils  felt  genuinely  ;  they  must  not  be 
taken  up  as  a  business  matter  and  a  trading  speculation. 
I  doubt  not  Mrs.  Stowe  felt  the  iron  of  slavery  enter  into 
her  heart,  from  childhood  upwards,  long  before  she  ever 
thought  of  writing  books.  The  feeling  throughout  her 
work  is  sincere  and  not  got  up.  Remember  to  be  an  hon- 
est critic  of  Villette/' and  tell  Mr.  Williams  to  be  un- 
sparing: not  that  I  am  likely  to  alter  anything,  but  I  want 
to  know  his  impressions  and  yours." 

TO  G.  SMITH,  ESQ. 

*  November  3. 

'  My  dear  Sir, — I  feel  very  grateful  for  your  letter  ;  it 
relieved  me  much,  for  I  was  a  good  deal  harassed  by  doubts 
as  to  how  Villette"  might  appear  in  other  eyes  than  my 
own.  I  feel  in  some  degree  authorised  to  rely  on  your 
favourable  impressions,  because  you  are  quite  right  where 
you  hint  disai)probation.  You  have  exactly  hit  two  points 
at  least  where  I  was  conscious  of  defect  — the  discrepancy, 
the  want  of  perfect  harmony,  between  Graham^s  boyhood 
and  manhood  —  the  angular  abruptness  of  his  change  of 
sentiment  towards  Miss  Fanshawe.  You  must  remember, 
though,  that  in  secret  he  had  for  some  time  appreciated 
that  young  lady  at  a  somewhat  depressed  standard — held 
her  a  little  lower  than  the  angels.  But  still  the  reader 
ought  to  have  been  better  made  to  feel  this  preparation 
towards  a  change  of  mood.  As  to  the  publishing  arrange- 
ments, I  leave  them  to  Cornhill.  There  is,  undoubtedly,  a 
certain  force  in  what  you  say  about  the  inexpediency  of  af- 
fecting a  mystery  which  cannot  be  sustained  ;  so  you  must 
act  as  you  think  is  for  the  best.  I  submit,  also,  to  the  ad- 
vertisements in  large  letters,  but  under  protest,  and  with  a 
kind  of  ostrich  longing  for  concealment.  Most  of  the  third 
volume  is  given  to  the  development  of  the  crabbed  Pro- 
fessorV  character.  Lucy  must  not  marry  Dr.  John;  he 
is  far  too  youthful,  handsome,  bright-spirited,  and  sweet- 
tempered ;  he  is  a    curled  darling^' of  Nature  and  of  Fort- 


1853 


LETTERS  ABOUT  ^VILLETTE' 


595 


uue,  and  must  draw  a  prize  in  life's  lottery.  His  wife  mast 
be  young,  rich,  pretty ;  he  must  be  made  very  happy  indeed. 
If  Lucy  marries  anybody  it  must  be  the  Professor — a  man 
in  whom  there  is  much  to  forgive,  much  to  ^^put  up  with.'^ 
But  I  am  not  leniently  disposed  towards  Miss  Frost:  from 
the  beginning  I  never  meant  to  appoint  her  lines  in  pleasant 
places.  The  conclusion  of  this  third  volume  is  still  a  mat- 
ter of  some  anxiety :  I  can  but  do  my  best,  however.  It 
would  speedily  be  finished,  could  I  ward  off  certain  obnox- 
ious headaches,  which,  whenever  I  get  into  the  spirit  of  my 
work,  are  apt  to  seize  and  prostrate  me.  .  .  . 

'  Colonel  Henry  Esmond  is  just  arrived.  He  looks  very 
antique  and  distinguished  in  his  Queen  Anne's  garb ;  the 
periwig,  sword,  lace,  and  ruffles  are  very  well  represented 
by  the  old    Spectator"  type.' 

In  reference  to  a  sentence  towards  the  close  of  this  letter, 
I  may  mention  what  she  told  me  ;  that  Mr.  Bronte  was  anx- 
ious that  her  new  tale  should  end  well,  as  he  disliked  novels 
which  left  a  melancholy  impression  upon  the  mind  ;  and  he 
requested  her  to  make  her  hero  and  heroine  (like  the  heroes 
and  heroines  in  fairy  tales)  ^  marry,  and  live  very  happily 
ever  after.'  But  the  idea  of  M.  Paul  Emanuel's  death  at 
sea  was  stamped  on  her  imagination,  till  it  assumed  the  dis- 
tinct force  of  reality ;  and  she  could  no  more  alter  her  fic- 
titious ending  than  if  they  had  been  facts  which  she  was 
relating.  All  she  could  do  in  compliance  with  her  father's 
wish  was  so  to  veil  the  fate  in  oracular  words  as  to  leave  it 
to  the  character  and  discernment  of  her  readers  to  interpret 
her  meaning. 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ. 

*  November  6,  1852. 
'My  dear  Sir, — I  must  not  delay  thanking  you  for  your 
kind  letter,  with  its  candid  and  able  commentary  on  Vil- 
lette.'^  With  many  of  your  strictures  I  concur.  The  third 
volume  may,  perhaps,  do  away  with  some  of  the  objections ; 
others  still  remain  in  force.    I  do  not  think  the  interest 


596 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


culminates  anywhere  to  the  degree  yon  would  wish.  What 
climax  there  is  does  not  come  on  till  near  the  conclusion  ; 
and  even  then  I  doubt  whether  the  regular  novel-reader 
will  consider  the  agony  piled  sufficiently  high^^  (as  the 
Americans  say),  or  the  colours  dashed  on  to  the  canvas 
with  the  proper  amount  of  daring.  Still,  I  fear,  they  must 
be  satisfied  with  what  is  offered :  my  palette  aJffords  no 
brighter  tints;  were  I  to  attempt  to  deepen  the  reds,  or 
burnish  the  yellows,  I  should  but  botch. 

^  Unless  I  am  mistaken  the  emotion  of  the  book  will  be 
found  to  be  kept  throughout  in  tolerable  subjection.  As 
to  the  name  of  the  heroine,  I  can  hardly  express  what  subt- 
lety of  thought  made  me  decide  upon  giving  her  a  cold 
name ;  but,  at  first,  I  called  her  ^'  Lucy  Snowe"  (spelt  with 
an  ^^e'^),  which  Snowe  I  afterwards  changed  to  ^*  Frost." 
Subsequently  I  rather  regretted  the  change,  and  wished  it 
^*  Snowe"  again.  If  not  too  late  I  should  like  the  altera- 
tion to  be  made  now  throughout  the  MS.  A  cold  name  she 
must  have  ;  partly,  perhaps,  on  the  ^'lucus  a  non  hcce^ido" 
principle — partly  on  that  of  the  fitness  of  things,"  for  she 
has  about  her  an  external  coldness.^ 

^  You  say  that  she  may  be  thought  morbid  and  weak, 
unless  the  history  of  her  life  be  more  fully  given.  I  con- 
sider that  she  is  both  morbid  and  weak  at  times ;  her  char- 
acter sets  up  no  pretensions  to  unmixed  strength,  and  any- 
body living  her  life  would  necessarily  become  morbid.  It 
was  no  impetus  of  healthy  feeling  which  urged  her  to  the 
confessional,  for  instance  ;  it  was  the  semi-delirium  of  soli- 
tary grief  and  sickness.  If,  however,  the  book  does  not 
express  all  this,  there  must  be  a  great  fault  somewhere.  I 
might  explain  away  a  few  other  points,  but  it  would  be  too 
much  like  drawing  a  picture  and  then  writing  underneath 
the  name  of  the  object  intended  to  be  represented.  We 

^  Miss  Bronte  wrote  Yillette  on  scraps  of  paper  which  she  afterwards 
neatly  copied  out.  The  *  clean  copy '  of  Villette  is  in  the  possession 
of  Mr.  George  Smith.  Here  the  name  Frost  is  scratched  through  and 
Snowe  is  substituted. 


1852 


^VILLETTE 


597 


know  what  sort  of  a  pencil  that  is  which  needs  an  ally  in 
the  pen. 

^  Thanking  you  again  for  the  clearness  and  fulness  with 
which  you  have  responded  to  my  request  for  a  statement  of 
impressions,  I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  yours  very  sincerely, 

^C.  Broxte/ 

^  I  trust  the  work  will  be  seen  in  MS.  by  no  one  except 
Mr.  Smith  and  yourself.' 

*  November  10,  1853. 
^My  dear  Sir, — I  only  wished  the  publication  of  Shir- 
ley to  be  delayed  till  "  Villette ''  was  nearly  ready  ;  so  that 
there  can  now  be  no  objection  to  its  being  issued  whenever 
you  think  fit.  About  putting  the  MS.  into  type  I  can  only 
say  that,  should  I  be  able  to  proceed  with  the  third  volume 
at  my  average  rate  of  composition,  and  with  no  more  than 
the  average  amount  of  interruptions,  I  should  hope  to  have 
it  ready  in  about  three  weeks.  I  leave  it  to  you  to  decide 
whether  it  would  be  better  to  delay  the  printing  that  space 
of  time,  or  to  commence  it  immediately.  It  would  certainly 
be  more  satisfactory  if  you  were  to  see  the  third  volume  be- 
fore printing  the  first  and  the  second ;  yet  if  delay  is  likely 
to  prove  injurious,  I  do  not  think  it  is  indispensab  le.  I  have 
read  the  third  volume  of  Esmond.'^  I  founu  it  both  en- 
tertaining and  exciting  to  me  ;  it  seems  to  possess  an  impe- 
tus and  excitement  beyond  the  other  two  ;  that  movement 
and  brilliancy  its  predecessors  sometimes  wanted  never  fail 
here.  In  certain  passages  I  thought  Thackeray  used  all  his 
powers ;  their  grand,  serious  force  yielded  a  profound  sat- 
isfaction. ^^At  last  he  puts  forth  his  strength,^'  I  could 
not  help  saying  to  myself.  No  character  in  the  book  strikes 
me  as  more  masterly  than  that  of  Beatrix  ;  its  conception 
is  fresh,  and  its  delineation  vivid.  It  is  peculiar ;  it  has 
impressions  of  a  new  kind — new,  at  least,  to  me.  Beatrix 
is  not,  in  herself,  all  bad.  So  much  does  she  sometimes 
reveal  of  what  is  good  and  great  as  to  suggest  this  feel- 
ing ;  you  would  think  she  was  urged  by  a  Fate.    You  would 


598 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


think  that  some  antique  doom  presses  on  her  house,  and 
that  once  in  so  many  generations  its  brightest  ornament 
was  to  become  its  greatest  disgrace.  At  times  what  is  good 
in  her  struggles  against  this  terrible  destiny,  but  the  Fate 
conquers.  Beatrix  cannot  be  an  honest  woman  and  a  good 
man^s  wife.  She  tries  and  she  cannot,'^  Proud,  beauti- 
ful, and  sullied,*  she  was  born  what  she  becomes,  a  king's 
mistress.  I  know  not  whether  you  have  seen  the  notice 
in  the  Leader;"  I  read  it  just  after  concluding  the 
book.  Can  I  be  wrong  in  deeming  it  a  notice  tame,  cold, 
and  insufficient  ?  With  all  its  professed  friendliness  it 
produced  on  me  a  most  disheartening  impression.  Surely 
another  sort  of  justice  than  this  will  be  rendered  to  Es- 
mondfrom  other  quarters.  One  acute  remark  of  the 
critic  is  to  the  effect  that  Blanche  Amory  and  Beatrix 
are  identical — sketched  from  the  same  original  !  To  me 
they  are  about  as  identical  as  a  weazel  and  a  royal  tigress  of 
Bengal ;  both  the  latter  are  quadrupeds,  both  the  former 
women.  But  I  must  not  take  up  either  your  time  or  my 
own  with  further  remarks. 

^Believe  me  yours  sincerely,  0.  Bronte.' 

On  a  Saturday,  a  little  later  in  this  month.  Miss  Bronte 
completed  ^  Villette,'  and  sent  it  off  to  her  publishers.  *  I 
said  my  prayers  when  I  had  done  it.  Whether  it  is  well  or 
ill  done  I  don't  know  ;  D.V.  I  will  now  try  and  wait  the 
issue  quietly.  The  book,  I  think,  will  not  be  considered 
pretentious  ;  nor  is  it  of  a  character  to  excite  hostility.' 

As  her  labour  was  ended  she  felt  at  liberty  to  allow  her- 
self a  little  change.  There  were  several  friends  anxious  to 
see  her  and  welcome  her  to  their  homes — Miss  Martineau, 
Mrs.  Smith,  and  her  own  faithful  Ellen.  With  the  last,  in 
the  same  letter  as  that  in  which  she  announced  the  com- 
pletion of  ^Villette,'  she  offered  to  spend  a  week.^  She 

^  The  week  was  spent  with  Ellen  Niissey.  There  is  a  letter  dated 
Brookroyd,  November  25,  1852,  addressed  to  Mrs.  Smith: — 

'Your  kind  note  reached  me  just  when  I  was  on  the  point  of  leav 


1868 


*  VILLETTE^ 


599 


began,  also,  to  consider  whether  it  might  not  be  well  to 
avail  herself  of  Mrs.  Smith's  kind  invitation,  with  a  view 
to  the  convenience  of  being  on  the  spot  to  correct  the  proofs. 

The  following  letter  is  given  not  merely  on  account  of 
her  own  criticisms  on  ^  Villette,^  but  because  it  shows  how 
she  had  learned  to  magnify  the  meaning  of  trifles,  as  all  do 
who  live  a  self-contained  and  solitary  life.  Mr.  Smith  had 
been  unable  to  write  by  the  same  post  as  that  which  brought 
the  money  for  ^  Villette,"  and  she  consequently  received  it 
without  a  line.  The  friend  with  whom  she  was  staying 
says  that  she  immediately  fancied  there  was  some  disap- 
pointment about  ^  Villette,'  or  that  some  word  or  act  of 
hers  had  given  offence  ;  and  had  not  the  Sunday  intervened, 
and  so  allowed  time  for  Mr.  Smith's  letter  to  make  its  ap- 
pearance, she  would  certainly  have  crossed  it  on  her  way 
to  London. 

'  December  6.  1852. 
^My  dear  Sir, — The  receipts  have  reached  me  safely.  I 
received  the  first  on  Saturday,  enclosed  in  a  cover  without 

ing  home.  I  have  promised  to  stay  with  my  friends  here  for  a  week, 
and  afterwards  1  have  further  promised  to  spend  a  week  with  Miss 
Martineau  at  Ambleside  ;  a  fortnight  is  as  long  a  time  as,  for  the  pres- 
ent, I  should  like  to  be  absent  from  my  father. 

*  You  must  then  permit  me  to  defer  my  visit  to  you.  I  own  I  do 
not  at  all  wish  to  be  in  a  hurry  about  it :  it  pleases  me  to  have  it 
in  prospect ;  it  is  something  to  look  forward  to  and  to  anticipate ;  I 
keep  it  on  the  principle  of  the  schoolboy  who  hoards  his  choicest  piece 
of  cake. 

•  When  I  mentioned  your  invitation  to  my  father  he  suggested  an- 
other reason  for  delay ;  he  said  I  ought  to  wait  and  see  what  the  critics 
would  do  to  me  ;  and  indeed  I  think  myself  that  in  case  of  the  great 
Times,  for  instance,  having  another  Field-Marshal  Haynau  castigation 
in  store  for  me  I  would  rather  undergo  the  infliction  at  Haworth  than 
in  London. 

'  1  was  glad  to  hear  of  your  long  stay  at  Woodford  during  the  sum- 
mer, for  I  felt  sure  you  would  enjoy  it  much.  I  trust  that  ere  this 
you  have  heard  good  news  from  Alick.  Mr.  Smith  mentioned  last 
August  that  he  was  gone  out  to  India  ;  no  doubt  you  will  have  heard 
before  now  of  his  safe  arrival,  and  whether  he  is  likely  to  settle  com- 
fortably in  his  new  and  distant  quarters.* 


600 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


a  line,  and  had  made  up  my  mind  to  take  the  train  on 
Monday,  and  go  up  to  London  to  see  what  was  the  matter, 
and  what  had  struck  my  publisher  mute.  On  Sunday 
morning  your  letter  came,  and  you  have  thus  been  spared 
the  visitation  of  the  unannounced  and  unsummoned  appa- 
rition of  Currer  Bell  in  Cornhill.  Inexplicable  delays  should 
be  avoided  when  possible,  for  they  are  apt  to  urge  those  sub- 
jected to  their  harassment  to  sudden  and  impulsive  steps.  . 

'  I  must  pronounce  you  right  again,  in  your  complaint 
of  the  transfer  of  interest  in  the  third  volume  from  one  set 
of  characters  to  another.  It  is  not  pleasant,  and  it  will 
probably  be  found  as  unwelcome  to  the  reader  as  it  was,  in 
a  sense,  compulsory  upon  the  writer.  The  spirit  of  ro- 
mance would  have  indicated  another  course,  far  more  flow- 
ery and  inviting ;  it  would  have  fashioned  a  paramount 
hero,  kept  faithfully  with  him,  and  made  him  supremely 
worshipful ;  he  should  have  an  idol,  and  not  a  mute,  unre- 
sponding  idol  either  ;  but  this  would  have  been  unlike  real 
life — inconsistent  with  truth — at  variance  with  probability. 
I  greatly  apprehend,  however,  that  the  weakest  character 
in  the  book  is  the  one  I  aimed  at  making  the  most  beauti- 
ful ;  and,  if  this  be  the  case,  the  fault  lies  in  its  wanting 
the  germ  of  the  real— in  its  being  purely  imaginary.  I  felt 
that  this  character  lacked  substance  ;  I  fear  that  the  reader 
will  feel  the  same.  Union  with  it  resembles  too  much  the 
fate  of  Ixion,  who  was  mated  with  a  cloud.  The  childhood 
of  Paulina  is,  however,  I  think,  pretty  well  imagined,  but 
her  .  .  .  ^  (the  remainder  of  this  interesting  sentence  is 
torn  ofiE  the  letter).  brief  visit  to  London  becomes 
thus  more  practicable,  and  if  your  mother  will  kindly  write, 
when  she  has  time,  and  name  a  day  after  Christmas  which 
will  suit  her,  I  shall  have  pleasure,  papa^s  health  permit- 
ting, in  availing  myself  of  her  invitation.  I  wish  I  could 
come  in  time  to  correct  some  at  least  of  the  proofs ;  it 
would  save  trouble.^  ^ 

'  There  is  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Smith  dated  December  30,  1852:— 

*  I  can  now  name  Wednesday,  the  5th  of  January,  as  the  day  when 


1853 


VISIT  TO  LONDON 


601 


I  hope  to  see  you  if  all  be  well.  Should  there  be  any  objection  to  this 
day,  you  will  kindly  let  me  know.  My  father  is  thus  far  passing  the 
winter  so  well  that  I  can  look  forward  to  leaving  home  for  a  little 
while  with  a  comparatively  easy  mind  ;  he  seems  also  pleased  that  I 
should  have  a  little  change.  I  should  leave  Leeds  at  twenty-five 
minutes  past  ten  in  the  morning,  and,  if  I  understand  Bradshaw 
rightly,  should  arrive  in  Euston  Square  at  fifteen  minutes  past  four  in 
the  afternoon. 

*  It  grieved  me  to  see  that  the  Times  has  shown  its  teeth  at  Esmond 
with  a  courteously  malignant  grin  which  seems  to  say  that  it  never 
forgets  a  grudge. 

*  I  want  to  know  what  Mr.  Smith  thinks  about  Villette  coming  out 
so  nearly  at  the  same  time  with  Mrs.  Gaskell's  new  work  Buth.  I  am 
afraid  he  will  not  regard  the  coincidence  as  auspicious  ;  but  I  hope 
soon  to  be  able  to  hear  his  verbal  opinion. 

*  Trusting  that  all  in  "Gloucester  Terrace"  have  spent  a  merry 
Christmas,  and  wishing  to  each  and  every  one,  by  anticipation,  a  hap- 
py new  year.' 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


The  difficulty  that  presented  itself  most  strongly  to  me, 
when  I  first  had  the  honour  of  being  requested  to  write 
this  biography,  was  how  I  could  show  what  a  noble,  true, 
and  tender  woman  Charlotte  Bronte  really  was,  without 
mingling  up  with  her  life  too  much  of  the  personal  history 
of  her  nearest  and  most  intimate  friends.  After  much  con- 
sideration of  this  point  I  came  to  the  resolution  of  writing 
truly,  if  I  wrote  at  all ;  of  withholding  nothing,  though 
some  things,  from  their  very  nature,  could  not  be  spoken 
of  so  fully  as  others. 

One  of  the  deepest  interests  of  her  life  centres  naturally 
round  her  marriage  and  the  preceding  circumstances  ;  but 
more  than  all  other  events  (because  of  more  recent  date, 
and  concerning  another  as  intimately  as  herself)  it  requires 
delicate  handling  on  my  part,  lest  I  intrude  too  roughly  on 
what  is  most  sacred  to  memory.  Yet  I  have  two  reasons, 
which  seem  to  me  good  and  valid  ones,  for  giving  some  par- 
ticulars of  the  course  of  events  which  led  to  her  few  months 
of  wedded  life  —  that  short  spell  of  exceeding  happiness. 
The  first  is  my  desire  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  Mr. 
NichoUs  was  one  who  had  seen  her  almost  daily  for  years  ; 
seen  her  as  a  daughter,  a  sister,  a  mistress,  and  a  friend. 
He  was  not  a  man  to  be  attracted  by  any  kind  of  literary 
fame.  I  imagine  that  this,  by  itself,  would  rather  repel 
him  when  he  saw  it  in  the  possession  of  a  woman.  He  was 
a  grave,  reserved,  conscientious  man,  with  a  deep  sense  of 
religion,  and  of  his  duties  as  one  of  its  ministers. 

In  silence  he  had  watched  her,  and  loved  her  long.  The 
love  of  such  a  man — a  daily  spectator  of  her  manner  of  life 


1852 


A  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE 


603 


for  years  —  is  a  great  testimony  to  her  character  as  a 
woman. 

How  deep  his  aflPection  was  I  scarcely  dare  to  tell,  even 
if  I  could  in  words.  She  did  not  know— she  had  hardly 
begun  to  suspect — that  she  was  the  object  of  any  peculiar 
regard  on  his  part,  when,  in  this  very  December,  he  came 
one  evening  to  tea.  After  tea  she  returned  from  the  study 
to  her  own  sitting-room,  as  was  her  custom,  leaving  her 
father  and  his  curate  together.  Presently  she  heard  the 
study  door  open,  and  expected  to  hear  the  succeeding  clash 
of  the  front  door.  Instead  came  a  tap;  and,  Mike  light- 
ning, it  flashed  upon  me  what  was  coming.  He  entered. 
He  stood  before  me.  What  his  words  were  you  can  imagine; 
his  manner  you  can  hardly  realise,  nor  can  I  forget  it. 
He  made  me,  for  the  first  time,  feel  what  it  costs  a  man 
to  declare  affection  when  he  doubts  response.  .  .  .  The 
spectacle  of  one,  ordinarily  so  statuelike,  thus  trembling, 
stirred,  and  overcome,  gave  me  a  strange  shock.  I  could 
only  entreat  him  to  leave  me  then,  and  promise  a  reply  on 
the  morrow.  I  asked  if  he  had  spoken  to  papa.  He  said 
he  dared  not.  I  think  I  half  led,  half  put  him  out  of  the 
room.' 

So  deep,  so  fervent,  and  so  enduring  was  the  affection 
Miss  Bronte  had  inspired  in  the  heart  of  this  good  man  ! 
It  is  an  honour  to  her;  and,  as  such,  I  have  thought  it  my 
duty  to  say  thus  much,  and  quote  thus  fully  from  her  let- 
ter about  it.  And  now  I  pass  to  my  second  reason  for 
dwelling  on  a  subject  which  may  possibly  be  considered  by 
some,  at  first  sight,  of  too  private  a  nature  for  publication. 
When  Mr.  Nicholls  had  left  her,  Charlotte  went  imme- 
diately to  her  father  and  told  him  all.  He  always  dis- 
approved of  marriages,  and  constantly  talked  against  them. 
But  he  more  than  disapproved  at  this  time  ;  he  could  not 
bear  the  idea  of  this  attachment  of  Mr,  Nicholls  to  his 
daughter.  Fearing  the  consequences  of  agitation  to  one  so 
recently  an  invalid,  she  made  haste  to  give  her  father  a 
promise  that,  on  the  morrow,  Mr.  Nicholls  should  have  a 


604 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


distinct  refusaL  Thus  quietly  and  modestly  did  she,  on 
whom  such  hard  judgments  had  been  passed  by  ignorant 
reviewers,  receive  this  vehement,  passionate  declaration  of 
love — thus  thoughtfully  for  her  father,  and  unselfishly  for 
herself,  put  aside  all  consideration  of  how  she  should  reply, 
excepting  as  he  wished  ! 

The  immediate  result  of  Mr.  NichoUs's^  declaration  of 
attachment  was,  that  he  sent  in  his  resignation  of  the 
curacy  of  Haworth ;  and  that  Miss  Bronte  held  her- 
self simply  passive,  as  far  as  words  and  actions  went,  while 
she  suffered  acute  pain  from  the  strong  expressions  which 
her  father  used  in  speaking  of  Mr.  Nicholls,  and  from  the 
too  evident  distress  and  failure  of  health  on  the  part  of  the 
latter.  Under  these  circumstances  she,  more  gladly  than 
ever,  availed  herself  of  Mrs.  Smith's  proposal  that  she 
should  again  visit  them  in  London  ;  and  thither  she  accord- 
ingly went  in  the  first  week  of  the  year  1853. 

From  thence  I  received  the  following  letter.  It  is 
with  a  sad,  proud  pleasure  I  copy  her  words  of  friendship 
now : — 

*  London  :  January  12,  1853. 

'  It  is  with  yoit  the  ball  rests.  I  have  not  heard  from  you 
since  I  wrote  last ;  but  I  thought  I  knew  the  reason  of  your 
silence,  viz.  application  to  work — and  therefore  I  accept  it, 
not  merely  with  resignation  but  with  satisfaction. 

'  I  am  now  in  London,  as  the  date  above  will  show ; 
staying  very  quietly  at  my  publisher's,  and  correcting  proofs, 
&c.  Before  receiving  yours  I  had  felt,  and  expressed  to 
Mr.  Smith,  reluctance  to  come  in  the  way  of  ^^Kuth not 

^  Mr.  Arthur  Bell  Kicholls  was  born  in  co.  Antrim  in  1817.  He  was 
of  Scots  parentage  on  both  sides.  He  was  educated  by  an  uncle,  the 
Rev  Alan  Bell,  at  the  Royal  School  at  Banagher,  King's  Co.,  and  at 
Trinity  College,  Dublin.  He  succeeded  Mr.  P.  A.  Smith  as  curate  at 
Haworth.  After  his  unsuccessful  proposal  to  Charlotte  Bronte  he 
took  for  a  short  time  a  curacy  at  Kirk-Smeaton,  and  he  was  succeeded 
at  Haworth  by  a  Mr.  de  Renzi.  Mr.  Bronte's  objection  to  Mr.'Nicholls 
as  a  son-in-law  was  solely  based  upon  his  inadequate  prospects.  His 
stipend  was  necessarily  very  small. 


1853 


HER  LAST  VISIT  TO  LONDON 


605 


that  I  think  she  would  suffer  from  contact  with  ^^Villette^' 
— we  know  not  but  that  the  damage  might  be  the  other 
way — but  I  have  ever  held  comparisons  to  be  odious,  and 
would  fain  that  neither  I  nor  my  friends  should  be  made 
subjects  for  the  same.  Mr.  Smith  proposes,  accordingly, 
to  defer  the  publication  of  my  book  till  the  24th  inst.  ;  he 
says  that  will  give  "  Ruth  "  the  start  in  the  papers,  daily 
and  weekly,  and  also  will  leave  free  to  her  all  the  Febru- 
ary magazines.  Should  this  delay  appear  to  you  insufficient, 
speak  !  and  it  shall  be  protracted. 

dare  say,  arrange  as  we  may,  we  shall  not  be  able 
wholly  to  prevent  comparisons  ;  it  is  the  nature  of  some 
critics  to  be  invidious  ;  but  we  need  not  care  :  we  can  set 
them  at  defiance ;  they  shall  not  make  us  foes,  they  sltall 
not  mingle  with  our  mutual  feelings  one  taint  of  jealousy: 
there  is  my  hand  on  that;  I  know  you  will  give  clasp  for 
clasp. 

^  Villette'^  has  indeed  no  right  to  push  itself  before 
'^Ruth.'^  There  is  a  goodness,  a  philanthropic  purpose,  a 
social  use  in  the  latter,  to  which  the  former  cannot  for  an 
instant  pretend;  nor  can  it  claim  precedence  on  the  ground 
of  surpassing  power:  I  think  it  much  quieter  than  Jane 
Eyre." 

^  I  wish  to  see  you,  probably  at  least  as  much  as  you 
can  wish  to  see  me,  and  therefore  shall  consider  your  in- 
vitation for  March  as  an  engagement;  about  the  close  of 
that  month,  then,  I  hope  to  pay  you  a  brief  visit.  With 
kindest  remembrances  to  Mr.  Gaskell  and  all  your  precious 
circle  I  am,^  &c. 

This  visit  at  Mrs.  Smithes  was  passed  more  quietly  than 
any  previous  one,  and  was  consequently  more  in  accord- 
ance with  Miss  Bronte's  tastes.  She  saw  things  rather  than 
persons ;  and  being  allowed  to  have  her  own  choice  of 
sights,  she  selected  the  ^  real  in  preference  to  the  decorative 
side  of  life.''    She  went  over  two  prisons — one  ancient,  the 


606 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


other  modern — Newgate  and  Pentonville ;  over  two  Hospitals, 
the  Foundling  and  Bethlehem.  She  was  also  taken,  at  her 
own  request,  to  see  several  of  the  great  City  sights — the 
Bank,  the  Exchange,  Rothschild's,  &c. 

The  power  of  vast  yet  minute  organisation  always  called 
out  her  respect  and  admiration.  She  appreciated  it  more 
fully  than  most  women  are  able  to  do.  All  that  she  saw 
during  this  last  visit  to  London  impressed  her  deeply — so 
much  so  as  to  render  her  incapable  of  the  immediate  ex- 
pression of  her  feelings,  or  of  reasoning  upon  her  impres- 
sions while  they  were  so  vivid.  If  she  had  lived,  her  deep 
heart  would  sooner  or  later  have  spoken  out  on  these 
things. 

What  she  saw  dwelt  in  her  thoughts,  and  lay  heavy  on 
her  spirits.  She  received  the  utmost  kindness  from  her 
hosts,  and  had  the  old  warm  and  grateful  regard  for  them. 
But  looking  back,  with  the  knowledge  of  what  was  then 
the  future,  which  Time  has  given,  one  cannot  but  imagine 
that  there  was  a  toning-down  in  preparation  for  the  final 
farewell  to  these  kind  friends,  whom  she  saw  for  the  last 
time  on  a  Wednesday  morning  in  February.  She  met  her 
friend  Ellen  at  Keighley  on  her  return,  and  the  two  pro- 
ceeded to  Haworth  together. 

TO  MARTHA  BROWN. 

'  Gloucester  Terrace,  London  : 
•  January  28, 1853. 
^Dear  Martha, — If  all  be  well  I  hope  to  come  home  next 
Wednesday.  I  have  asked  Miss  Nussey  to  come  with  me. 
We  shall  reach  Haworth  about  half-past  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  and  I  know  I  can  trust  you  to  have  things  com- 
fortable and  in  readiness.  The  table-cloths  had  better  be 
put  on  the  dining-room  tables  ;  you  will  have  something 
prepared  that  will  do  for  supper — perhaps  a  nice  piece  of 
cold  boiled  ham  would  be  as  well  as  anything,  as  it  would 
come  in  for  breakfast  in  the  morning.  The  weather  has 
been  very  changeable  here,  in  London.    I  have  often  won- 


1S53 


SUCCESS  OF  ^VILLETTE^ 


607 


dered  how  you  and  papa  stood  it  at  home  ;  I  felt  the 
changes  in  some  degree,  but  not  half  so  much  as  I  should 
have  done  at  Havvorth,  and  have  only  had  one  really  bad 
day  of  headache  and  sickness  since  I  came.  I  hope  you 
and  Tabby  have  agreed  pretty  well,  and  that  you  have  got 
help  in  your  work  whenever  you  have  wanted  it.  Kemem- 
ber  me  kindly  to  Tabby,  and  believe  me,  dear  Martha,  your 
sincere  friend,  0.  Brokte.^ 

^  Villette ' — which,  if  less  interesting  as  a  mere  story  than 
^  Jane  Eyre,^  displays  yet  more  of  the  extraordinary  genius 
of  the  author — was  received  with  one  burst  of  acclamation. 
Out  of  so  small  a  circle  of  characters,  dwelling  in  so  dull 
and  monotonous  an  area  as  a  ^pension,"  this  wonderful  tale 
was  evolved  ! 

See  how  she  receives  the  good  tidings  of  her  success  !  ^ 

^  There  are  two  letters,  both  dated  February  7  and  addressed  to  Mr. 
George  Smith,  one  from  Miss  Bronte  and  the  other  from  her  father: — 

*  Haworth. 

*  My  dear  Sir, — I  have  received  and  read  the  Reviews.  I  think  I 
ought  to  be,  and  feel  that  I  am,  very  thankful.  That  in  the  Examiner 
is  better  than  I  expected,  and  that  in  the  Literary  Gazette  is  as  good  as 
any  author  can  look  for.  Somebody  also  sent  me  the  Nonconformist 
with  a  favourable  review.  The  notice  in  the  Daily  News  was  un- 
doubtedly written  by  Miss  Martineau  (to  this  paper  she  contributed 
her  Irish  letters).  I  have  received  a  letter  from  her  precisely  to  the 
same  effect,  marking  the  same  point,  and  urging  the  same  objections, 
similarly  suggesting,  too,  a  likeness  to  Balzac,  whose  works  I  have  not 
read.  Her  letter  only  differs  from  the  reviews  in  being  severe  to  the 
point  of  injustice  ;  her  eulogy  is  also  more  highly  wrought.  On  the 
whole,  if  Cornhill  is  content  thus  far,  so  am  I. 

*  Yours  sincerely, 
'  C.  Bronte.' 

'  Haworth,  near  Keighley. 

*  My  dear  Sir, — I  know  not  whether  you  are  in  the  habit  of  canvas- 
sing for  your  publication  the  suffrages  of  the  provincial  press.  There 
is,  however,  one  provincial  editor  to  whom  it  might  be  advisable  to 
send  a  copy  of  my  daughter's  work,  Villette,  viz.  Mr.  Baiues,  editor  of 
the  Leeds  Mercury.    His  paper  enjoys  a  wide  circulation  and  consider- 


608 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


'  February  15,  1853. 
'  I  got  a  budget  of  no  less  than  seven  papers  yesterday 
and  to-day.  The  import  of  all  the  notices  is  such  as  to 
make  my  heart  swell  with  thankfulness  to  Him  who  takes 
note  both  of  suffering,  and  work,  and  motives.  Papa  is 
pleased  too.  As  to  friends  in  general,  I  believe  I  can  love 
them  still,  without  expecting  them  to  take  any  large  share 
in  this  sort  of  gratification.  The  longer  I  live  the  more 
plainly  I  see  that  gentle  must  be  the  strain  on  fragile  hu- 
man nature  ;  it  will  not  bear  much.^  ^ 

I  suspect  that  the  touch  of  slight  disappointment,  percep- 
tible in  the  last  few  lines,  arose  from  her  great  susceptibility 
to  an  opinion  she  valued  much  —  that  of  Miss  Martineau, 
who,  both  in  an  article  on  ^Villette'  in  the  'Daily  News^ 
and  in  a  private  letter  to  Miss  Bronte,  wounded  her  to  the 
quick  by  expressions  of  censure  which  she  believed  to  be 

able  influence  in  the  North  of  England,  and,  as  I  am  an  old  subscriber, 
and  occasional  contributor,  to  the  Mercury,  a  fair  notice,  I  think,  of 
Villette  might  be  counted  upon.  Offer  my  kind  regards  to  Mrs. 
Smith,  and  also  my  acknowledgments  for  her  late  friendly  hospitality 
to  my  daughter.  I  am 

*  Yours  faithfully, 
*P.  Bronte.' 

*  On  February  16  she  writes  to  Mr.  Smith — 

*  Haworth. 

*  I  do  not,  of  course,  expect  to  have  a  letter  from  you  at  present, 
because  I  know  that  this  is  the  busy  time  at  Cornhill ;  but  after  the 
weary  mail  is  gone  out  I  should  like  much  to  hear  what  you  think  of 
the  general  lone  of  the  notices,  whether  you  regard  them  as  reasona- 
bly satisfactory.  My  father  seems  pleased  with  them,  and  so  am  I, 
as  an  evidence  that  the  book  is  pretty  well  received.  I  must  not  tell 
you  what  I  think  of  such  reviews  as  that  in  the  Athenmum,  lest  you 
should  pronounce  me  fastidious  and  exacting.  On  the  whole  the 
critique  I  like  best  yet  is  one  I  got  at  an  early  stage  of  the  work,  before 
it  had  undergone  the  "  Old  Bailey,"  being  the  observations  of  a  re- 
spected amateur  critic,  one  A.  Fraser,  Esq.  I  am  bound  to  admit, 
however,  that  this  gentleman  confined  his  approving  remarks  to  the 
two  first  volumes,  tacitly  condemning  the  third  by  the  severity  of  a 
prolonged  silence.* 


1853  MISS  MARTINEAU'S  CRITICISM  609 


unjust  and  unfounded,  but  which,  if  correct  and  true,  went 
deeper  than  any  merely  artistic  fault.  An  author  may 
bring  himself  to  believe  that  he  can  bear  blame  with  equa- 
nimity, from  whatever  quarter  it  comes  ;  but  its  force  is 
derived  altogether  from  the  character  of  this.  To  the  pub- 
lic one  reviewer  may  be  the  same  impersonal  being  as  an- 
other ;  but  an  author  has  frequently  a  far  deeper  signifi- 
cance to  attach  to  opinions.  They  are  the  verdicts  of  those 
whom  he  respects  and  admires,  or  the  mere  words  of  those 
for  whose  Judgment  he  cares  not  a  jot.  It  is  this  knowledge 
of  the  individual  worth  of  the  reviewer's  opinion  which 
makes  the  censures  of  some  sink  so  deep,  and  prey  so 
heavily  upon  an  author's  heart.  And  thus,  in  proportion 
to  her  true,  firm  regard  for  Miss  Martineau  did  Miss  Bronte 
suffer  under  what  she  considered  her  misjudgment  not 
merely  of  writing,  but  of  character. 

She  had  long  before  asked  Miss  Martineau  to  tell  her 
whether  she  considered  that  any  want  of  womanly  delicacy 
or  propriety  was  betrayed  in  ^  Jane  Eyre.'  And  on  receiving 
Miss  Martineau's  assurance  that  she  did  not.  Miss  Bronte 
entreated  her  to  declare  it  frankly  if  she  thought  there  was 
any  failure  of  this  description  in  any  future  work  of 
^  Currer  Bell's.'  The  promise  then  given  of  faithful  truth- 
speaking  Miss  Martineau  fulfilled  when  ^  Villette '  appeared. 
Miss  Bronte  writhed  under  what  she  felt  to  be  injustice.^ 

^  It  is  but  due  to  Miss  Martineau  to  give  some  of  the  particulars  of  this 
misunderstanding,  as  she  has  written  them  down  for  me.  It  appears 
that  on  Miss  Bronte's  first  interview  with  Miss  Martineau  in  Decem- 
ber 1849,  she  had  expressed  pleasure  at  being  able  to  consult  a  friend 
about  certain  strictures  of  the  reviewers,  which  sne  did  not  understand, 
and  by  which  she  had  every  desire  to  profit.  *  She  said  that  the  re- 
views sometimes  puzzled  her,  and  that  some  imputed  to  her  what  made 
her  think  she  must  be  very  unlike  other  people,  or  cause  herself  to  be 
misunderstood.  She  could  not  make  it  out  at  all,  and  wished  that  I 
could  explain  it.  I  had  not  seen  that  sort  of  criticism  then,  I  think,  but 
I  had  heard  Jane  Eyre  called  "coarse."  I  told  her  that  love  was 
treated  with  unusual  breadth,  and  that  the  kind  of  intercourse  was 
uncommon,  and  uncommonly  described,  but  that  I  did  not  considei 


610 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


When  'Villette^  was  on  the  point  of  publication  she 
wrote  thus  to  Miss  Martineau  : — 

'  January  21,  1853. 
^  I  know  that  you  will  give  me  your  thoughts  upon  my 
book,  as  frankly  as  if  you  spoke  to  some  near  relative 
whose  good  you  preferred  to  her  gratification.  I  wince 
under  the  pain  of  condemnation,  like  any  other  weak 
structure  of  flesh  and  blood ;  but  I  love,  I  honour,  I  kneel 
to  truth.  Let  her  smite  me  on  the  one  cheek — good  !  the 
tears  may  spring  to  the  eyes ;  but  courage  !  there  is  the 
other  side  ;  hit  again  right  sharply.^ 

^This/  as  Miss  Martineau  observes,  ^was  the  genuine 
spirit  of  the  woman.' 

Miss  Martineau,  in  reply  to  this  adjuration,  wrote  a  let- 
ter part  of  which  ran  as  follows  : — 

^  As  for  the  other  side  of  the  question,  which  you  so  de- 
sire to  know,  I  have  but  one  thing  to  say ;  but  it  is  not  a 
small  one.  I  do  not  like  the  love,  either  the  kind  or  the 
degree  of  it ;  and  its  prevalence  in  the  book,  and  effect  on 
the  action  of  it,  help  to  explain  the  passages  in  the  reviews 
which  you  consulted  me  about,  and  seem  to  afford  some 
foundation  for  the  criticisms  they  offered.^ 

Miss  Martineau  has  also  allowed  me  to  make  use  of  the 
passage  referring  to  the  same  fault,  real  or  supposed,  in 
her  notice  of  ^  Villette '  in  the  ^  Daily  News.^ 

^All  the  female  characters,  in  all  their  thoughts  and 
lives,  are  full  of  one  thing,  or  are  regarded  by  the  reader 
in  the  light  of  that  one  thought — love.   It  begins  with  the 

the  book  a  coarse  one,  though  I  could  not  answer  for  it  that  there 
were  no  traits  which,  on  a  second  leisurely  reading,  I  might  not  dis- 
like on  that  ground.  She  begged  me  to  give  it  that  second  reading, 
and  1  did  on  condition  that  she  would  regard  my  criticisms  as  made 
through  the  eyes  of  her  reviewers '  (Note  by  Mrs.  Gaskell). 


1853 


MISS  MARTINEAU'S  CRITICISM 


611 


child  of  six  years  old,  at  the  opening — a  charming  picture 
— and  it  closes  with  it  at  the  last  page ;  and  so  dominant  is 
this  idea  —  so  incessant  is  the  writer's  tendency  to  describe 
the  need  of  being  loved  —  that  the  heroine,  who  tells  her 
own  story,  leaves  the  reader  at  last  under  the  uncomfort- 
able impression  of  her  having  either  entertained  a  double 
love,  or  allowed  one  to  supersede  another  without  notifica- 
tion of  the  transition.  It  is  not  thus  in  real  life.  There 
are  substantial,  heartfelt  interests  for  women  of  all  ages, 
and,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  quite  apart  from  love : 
there  is  an  absence  of  introspection,  an  unconsciousness,  a 
repose  in  women^s  lives — unless  under  peculiarly  unfortu- 
nate circumstances — of  which  we  find  no  admission  in  this 
book ;  and  to  the  absence  of  it  may  be  attributed  some  of 
the  criticism  which  the  book  will  meet  with  from  readers 
who  are  no  prudes,  but  whose  reason  and  taste  will  reject 
the  assumption  that  events  and  characters  are  to  be  re- 
garded through  the  medium  of  one  passion  only.  And 
here  ends  all  demur,^  &c.^ 

This  seems  a  fitting  place  to  state  how  utterly  uncon- 
scious she  was  of  what  was,  by  some,  esteemed  coarse  in  her 
writings.  One  day,  during  that  visit  at  the  Briery  when  I 
first  met  her,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  subject  of 

^  It  mu8t  have  been  about  this  time  that  Miss  Bronte  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing letter  to  Miss  Martineau  : — 

•My  dear  Miss  Martineau,— I  think  I  best  show  my  sense  of  the 
tone  and  feeling  of  your  last  by  immediate  compliance  with  the  wish 
you  express  that  I  should  send  your  letter.  I  inclose  it,  and  have 
marked  with  red  ink  the  passage  which  struck  me  dumb.  All  the 
rest  is  fair,  right,  worthy  of  you,  but  I  protest  against  this  passage  ; 
and  were  I  brought  up  before  the  bar  of  all  the  critics  in  England,  to 
such  a  charge  I  should  respond,  "Not  guilty." 

'  I  know  what  love  is  as  I  understand  it ;  and  if  man  or  woman 
should  be  ashamed  of  feeling  such  love,  then  is  there  nothing  right, 
noble,  faithful,  truthful,  unselfish  in  this  earth,  as  I  comprehend  rec- 
titude, nobleness,  fidelity,  truth,  and  disinterestedness. 

'  Yours  sincerely,  *  C.  B. 

'  To  differ  from  you  gives  me  keen  pain.' 


012 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


women^s  writing  fiction;  and  some  one  remarked  on  the 
fact  that,  in  certain  instances,  authoresses  had  much  out- 
stepped the  line  which  men  felt  to  be  proper  in  works  of 
this  kind.  Miss  Bronte  said  she  wondered  how  far  this 
was  a  natural  consequence  of  allowing  the  imagination  to 
work  too  constantly  ;  Sir  James  and  Lady  Kay-Shuttle- 
worth  and  I  expressed  our  belief  that  such  violations  of 
propriety  were  altogether  unconscious  on  the  part  of  those 
to  whom  reference  had  been  made.  I  remember  her  grave, 
earnest  way  of  saying,  '  I  trust  God  will  take  from  me 
whatever  power  of  invention  or  expression  I  may  have,  be- 
fore He  lets  me  become  blind  to  the  sense  of  what  is  fitting 
or  unfitting  to  be  said  V 

Again,  she  was  invariably  shocked  and  distressed  when 
she  heard  of  any  disapproval  of  ^  Jane  Eyre '  on  the  ground 
above  mentioned.  Some  one  said  to  her  in  London,  ^  You 
know  you  and  I,  Miss  Bronte,  have  both  written  naughty 
books  V  She  dwelt  much  on  this ;  and,  as  if  it  weighed  on 
her  mind,  took  an  opportunity  to  ask  Mrs.  Smith,  as  she 
would  have  asked  a  mother — if  she  had  not  been  mother- 
less from  earliest  childhood — whether  indeed  there  was 
anything  so  wrong  in  ^Jane  Eyre.^ 

I  do  not  deny,  for  myself,  the  existence  of  coarseness 
here  and  there  in  her  works,  otherwise  so  entirely  noble. 
1  only  ask  those  who  read  them  to  consider  her  life — 
which  has  been  openly  laid  bare  before  them — and  to  say 
how  it  could  be  otherwise.  She  saw  few  men ;  and  among 
these  few  were  one  or  two  with  whom  she  had  been  ac- 
quainted since  early  girlhood — who  had  shown  her  much 
friendliness  and  kindness — through  whose  family  she  had 
received  many  pleasures — for  whose  intellect  she  had  a 
great  respect — but  who  talked  before  her,  if  not  to  her, 
with  as  little  reticence  as  Rochester  talked  to  Jane  Eyre. 
Take  this  in  connection  with  her  poor  brother's  sad  life, 
and  the  outspoken  people  among  whom  she  lived — remem- 
ber her  strong  feeling  of  the  duty  of  representing  life  as  it 
really  is,  not  as  it  ought  to  be — and  then  do  her  justice  for 


1S53       HER  DEFENCE  OF  MISS  MARTINEAU  613 


all  that  she  was^  and  all  that  she  would  have  been  (had  God 
spared  her),  rather  than  censure  her  because  circumstances 
forced  her  to  touch  pitch,  as  it  were,  and  by  it  her  hand 
was  for  a  moment  defiled.  It  was  but  skin  deep.  Every 
change  in  her  life  was  purifying  her  ;  it  hardly  could  raise 
her.    Again  I  cry,  '  If  she  had  but  lived  !' 

The  misunderstanding  with  Miss  Martineau  on  account 
of  '  Villette '  was  the  cause  of  bitter  regret  to  Miss  Bronte. 
Her  woman's  nature  had  been  touched,  as  she  thought, 
with  insulting  misconception  ;  and  she  had  dearly  loved 
the  person  who  had  thus  unconsciously  wounded  her.  It 
was  but  in  the  January  just  past  that  she  had  written  as 
follows,  in  reply  to  Miss  Wooler,  the  tenor  of  whose  letter 
we  may  guess  from  this  answer: — 

^  I  read  attentively  all  you  say  about  Miss  Martineau ; 
the  sincerity  and  constancy  of  your  solicitude  touch  me  very 
much  ;  I  should  grieve  to  neglect  or  oppose  your  advice, 
and  yet  I  do  not  feel  it  would  be  right  to  give  Miss  Marti- 
neau up  entirely.  There  is  in  her  nature  much  that  is  very 
noble  ;  hundreds  have  forsaken  her,^  more,  I  fear,  in  the 
apprehension  that  their  fair  names  may  suffer,  if  seen  in 
connection  with  hers,  than  from  any  pure  convictions,  such 
as  you  suggest,  of  harm  consequent  on  her  fatal  tenets. 
With  these  fair-weather  friends  I  cannot  bear  to  rank ;  and 
for  her  sin,  is  it  not  one  of  those  of  which  God  and  not 
man  must  judge  ? 

^  To  speak  the  truth,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  I  believe,  if 
you  were  in  my  place,  and  knew  Miss  Martineau  as  I  do — 
if  you  had  shared  with  me  the  proofs  of  her  genuine  kindli- 
ness, and  had  seen  how  she  secretly  suffers  from  abandon- 
ment— you  would  be  the  last  to  give  her  up ;  you  would 
separate  the  sinner  from  the  sin,  and  feel  as  if  the  right  lay 

^  In  reference  to  this  passage  Miss  Martineau  writes  thus  : — 'There 
is  the  unaccountable  delusion  that  I  was  "deserted"  on  account  of 
the  Atkinson  Letters.  .  .  .  Facts  are  best ;  so  I  will  only  say  that 
I  am  not  aware  of  having  lost  any  friends  whatever  by  that  book, 
while  I  have  gained  a  new  world  of  sympathy  '  {Note  by  Mrs.  Gaskell). 


614  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


rather  in  quietly  adhering  to  her  in  her  strait,  while  that 
adherence  is  unfashionable  and  unpopular,  than  in  turning 
on  her  your  back  when  the  world  sets  the  example.  I  believe 
she  is  one  of  those  whom  opposition  and  desertion  make 
obstinate  in  error ;  while  patience  and  tolerance  touch  her 
deeply  and  keenly,  and  incline  her  to  ask  of  her  own  heart 
whether  the  course  she  has  been  pursuing  may  not  possibly 
be  a  faulty  course/ 

Kindly  and  faithful  words  !  which  Miss  Martineau  never 
knew  of ;  to  be  repaid  in  words  more  grand  and  tender 
when  Charlotte  lay  deaf  and  cold  by  her  dead  sisters.  In 
spite  of  their  short  sorrowful  misunderstanding  they  were 
a  pair  of  noble  women  and  faithful  friends. 

I  turn  to  a  pleasanter  subject.  While  she  was  in  Lon- 
don Miss  Bronte  had  seen  Lawrence^s  portrait  of  Mr.  Thack- 
eray, and  admired  it  extremely.  Her  first  words,  after  she 
had  stood  before  it  some  time  in  silence,  were,  ^  And  there 
came  up  a  Lion  out  of  Judah  !'  The  likeness  was  by  this 
time  engraved,  and  Mr.  Smith  sent  her  a  copy  of  it. 

TO  G.  SMITH,  ESQ. 

*Hawoith:  February  26,  1853. 
^  My  dear  Sir, — At  a  late  hour  yesterday  evening  I  had 
the  honour  of  receiving,  at  Haworth  Parsonage,  a  distin- 
guished guest,  none  other  than  W.  M.  Thackeray,  Esq. 
Mindful  of  the  rights  of  hospitality,  I  hung  him  up  in  state 
this  morning.  He  looks  superb  in  his  beautiful,  tasteful 
gilded  gibbet.  For  companion  he  has  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington (do  you  remember  giving  me  that  picture  ?),  and 
for  contrast  and  foil  Kichmond^s  portrait  of  an  unworthy 
individual  who,  in  such  society,  must  be  nameless.*  Thack- 
eray looks  away  from  the  latter  character  with  a  grand 
scorn,  edifying  to  witness.    I  wonder  if  the  giver  of  these 

*  All  three  pictures  are  now  on  the  walls  of  Mr.  Nicholls's  drawiog- 
room,  in  a  quiet  village  in  King's  County,  Ireland. 


1853 


HER  IMPROVED  HEALTH 


615 


gifts  will  ever  see  them  on  the  walls  where  they  now  hang; 
it  pleases  me  to  fancy  that  one  day  he  may.  My  father 
stood  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  this  morning  examining 
the  great  man^s  picture.  The  conclusion  of  his  survey  was, 
that  he  thought  it  a  puzzling  head  ;  if  he  had  known  noth- 
ing previously  of  the  original's  character,  he  could  not  have 
read  it  in  his  features.  I  wonder  at  this.  Tome  the  broad  brow 
seems  to  express  intellect.  Certain  lines  about  the  nose 
and  cheek  betray  the  satirist  and  cynic ;  the  mouth  indi- 
cates a  childlike  simplicity — perhaps  even  a  degree  of  ir- 
resoluteness,  inconsistency — weakness,  in  short,  but  a  weak- 
ness not  unamiable.  The  engraving  seems  to  me  very  good. 
A  certain  not  quite  Christian  expression — ^'^not  to  put  too 
fine  a  point  upon  it^^ — an  expression  of  spite,  most  vividly 
marked  in  the  original,  is  here  softened,  and  perhaps  a  lit- 
tle— a  very  little — of  the  power  has  escaped  in  this  amelio- 
rating process.    Did  it  strike  you  thus  T  ^ 

Miss  Bronte  was  in  much  better  health  during  this  win- 
ter of  1852-3  than  she  had  been  the  year  before. 

''For  my  part,' she  wrote  to  me  in  February,  have  thus 
far  borne  the  cold  weather  well.  I  have  taken  long  walks 
on  the  crackling  snow,  and  felt  the  frosty  air  bracing. 
This  winter  has,  for  me,  not  been  like  last  winter.  De- 
cember, January,  February  '51-2  passed  like  along  stormy 
night,  conscious  of  one  painful  dream,  all  solitary  grief  and 
sickness.  The  corresponding  months  in  '52-3  have  gone 
over  my  head  quietly  and  not  uncheerfully.  Thank  God 
for  the  change  and  the  repose  !    How  welcome  it  has  been 

*  This  letter  concludes  as  follows: — 

'  I  Lave  not  quite  settled  it  yet  whether  thanks  or  remonstrance  is 
the  due  meed  of  the  prompt  reply  I  received  to  my  last.  I  had  con- 
cluded that  Monday,  the  28th,  would  be  the  earliest  day  when  an  an- 
swer could  reasonably  be  expected,  whereas  one  arrived  Saturday, 
19th.  It  must  have  been  written  in  the  very  crisis  of  the  cruel  Mail. 
Well,  I  won't  say  anything.  '*A  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in 
the  bush."   The  letter  was  very  welcome,  that  is  certain.' 


616  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


He  only  knows !  My  father  too  has  borne  the  season 
well ;  and  my  book  and  its  reception  thus  far  have  pleased 
and  cheered  him/ 

In  March  the  quiet  Parsonage  had  the  honour  of  receiv- 
ing a  visit  from  the  then  Bishop  of  Ripon.  He  remained 
one  night  with  Mr.  Bronte.  In  the  evening  some  of  the 
neighbouring  clergy  were  invited  to  meet  him  at  tea  and 
supper  ;  and  during  the  latter  meal  some  of  the  ^curates' 
began  merrily  to  upbraid  Miss  Bronte  with  ^  putting  them 
into  a  book  and  she,  shrinking  from  thus  having  her 
character  as  authoress  thrust  upon  her  at  her  own  table, 
and  in  the  presence  of  a  stranger,  pleasantly  appealed  to 
the  Bishop  as  to  whether  it  was  quite  fair  thus  to  drive  her 
into  a  corner.  His  Lordship,  I  have  been  told,  was  agree- 
ably impressed  with  the  gentle,  unassuming  manners  of  his 
hostess,  and  with  the  perfect  propriety  and  consistency  of 
the  arrangements  in  the  modest  household.  So  much  for 
the  Bishop's  recollection  of  his  visit.  Now  we  will  turn  to 
hers. 

*  March  4. 

*  The  Bishop  *  has  been,  and  is  gone.  He  is  certainly  a 
most  charming  Bishop  ;  the  most  benignant  gentleman  that 
ever  put  on  lawn  sleeves ;  yet  stately  too,  and  quite  com- 
petent to  check  encroachments.  His  visit  passed  capitally 
well ;  and  at  its  close,  as  he  was  going  away,  he  expressed 
himself  thoroughly  gratified  with  all  he  had  seen.  The  In- 
spector has  been  also  in  the  course  of  the  past  week  ;  so 
that  I  have  had  a  somewhat  busy  time  of  it.  If  you  could 
have  been  at  Haworth  to  share  the  pleasures  of  the  com- 
pany without  having  been  inconvenienced  by  the  little 
bustle  of  the  preparation,  I  should  have  been  very  glad. 
But  the  house  was  a  good  deal  put  out  of  its  way,  as  you 
may  suppose  ;  all  passed,  however,  orderly,  quietly,  and 
well.    Martha  waited  very  nicely,  and  I  had  a  person  to 

*  Dr.  LoDgley. 


1853 


REVIEWS  OF  *VILLETTE' 


CI  7 


help  her  in  the  kitchen.  Papa  kept  up,  too,  fully  as  well 
as  I  expected,  though  I  doubt  whether  he  could  have  borne 
another  day  of  it.  My  penalty  came  on  in  a  strong  head- 
ache as  soon  as  the  Bishop  was  gone  :  how  thankful  I  was 
that  it  had  patiently  waited  his  departure  !  I  continue 
stupid  to  day  :  of  course  it  is  the  reaction  consequent  on 
several  days  of  extra  exertion  and  excitement.  It  is  very 
well  to  talk  of  receiving  a  Bishop  without  trouble,  but  you 
must  prepare  for  him.^ 

By  this  time  some  of  the  Reviews  had  begun  to  find  fault 
with  ^  Villette.^*    Miss  Bronte  made  her  old  request. 

^  The  review  which  seemed  to  affect  Miss  Bronie  most  of  all  was 
one  in  The  Chnstian  Remembrancer  of  April  1853,  in  which  the  author 
of  Villette  W2is  described  as  '  having  gained  both  in  amiability  and  pro- 
priety since  she  first  presented  herself  to  the  world — soured,  coarse, 
and  grumbling  ;  an  alien,  it  might  seem,  from  society,  and  amenable 
to  none  of  its  laws.'  Dr.  Robertson  Nicoll  (The  Bookman,  November 
1899)  has  uneartlied  a  protest  from  Charlotte  Bronie  to  the  editor  of 
The  Christian  Remembrancer,  in  which  the  author  of  Villetie  resents 
the  suggestion  of  her  critic  that  she  is  an  alien  from  society.  Writ- 
ing from  Haworth  on  July  18,  1853,  Miss  Bronte  says  : — 

*  To  him  I  would  say  that  no  cause  of  seclusion  such  as  he  would 
imply  has  ever  come  near  my  thoughts,  deeds,  or  life.  It  has  not 
entered  my  experience.    It  has  not  crossed  my  observation. 

'Providence  so  regulated  my  destiny  that  I  was  born  and  have  been 
reared  in  the  seclusion  of  a  country  parsonage.  I  have  never  been 
rich  enough  to  go  out  into  the  world  as  a  participator  in  its  gaieties, 
though  it  early  became  my  duty  to  leave  home,  in  order  partly  to  di- 
minish the  many  calls  on  a  limited  income.  That  income  is  lightened 
of  claims  in  another  sense  now,  for  of  a  family  of  six  I  am  the  only 
survivor. 

*  My  father  is  now  in  his  seventy-seventh  year  ;  his  mind  is  clear  as 
it  ever  was,  and  he  is  not  infirm,  but  he  suffers  from  parHal  privation 
and  threatened  loss  of  sight ;  and  his  general  health  is  also  delicate — 
he  cannot  be  left  often  or  long  :  my  place  consequently  is  at  home. 
These  are  reasons  which  make  retirement  a  plain  duty  ;  but  were  no 
such  reasons  in  existence,  were  I  bound  by  no  such  ties,  it  is  very  pos- 
sible that  seclusion  might  still  appear  to  me,  on  the  whole,  more  con- 
genial than  publicity  ;  the  brief  and  rare  glimpses  I  have  had  of  the 
world  do  not  incline  me  to  think  I  should  seek  its  circles  with  very 


618 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ^ 

^  My  dear  Sir, — Were  a  review  to  appear,  inspired  with 
treble  their  animus,  pray  do  not  withhold  it  from  me.  I 
like  to  see  the  satisfactory  notices  —  especially  I  like  to 
carry  them  to  my  father  — -  but  I  7nust  see  such  as  are  un- 
satisfactory  and  hostile  ;  these  are  for  my  own  especial 
edification;  it  is  in  these  I  best  read  public  feeling  and 
opinion.  To  shun  examination  into  the  dangerous  and 
disagreeable  seems  to  me  cowardly.  I  long  always  to  know 
what  really  is,  and  am  only  unnerved  when  kept  in  the 
dark.  .  .  . 

^  As  to  the  character  of  Lucy  Snowe,^'  my  intention 
from  the  first  was  that  she  should  not  occupy  the  pedestal 

keen  zest — nor  can  I  consider  such  disinclination  a  just  subject  for 
reproach. 

'This  is  tlie  truth.  The  careless,  rather  than  malevolent  insinua- 
tions of  reviewers  have,  it  seems,  widely  spread  another  impression. 
It  would  be  weak  to  complain,  but  I  feel  that  it  is  only  right  to  place 
the  real  in  opposition  to  the  unreal. 

'  Will  you  kindly  show  this  note  to  my  reviewer  ?  Perhaps  he  can- 
not now  find  an  antidote  for  the  poison  into  which  he  dipped  that  shaft 
he  shot  at  "  Currer  Bell,''  but  when  again  tempted  to  take  aim  at  other 
prey,  let  him  refrain  his  hand  a  moment  till  he  has  considered  conse- 
quences to  the  wounded,  and  recalled  the  "golden  rule."' 

To  Miss  Wooler  she  wrote  on  April  13,  1853 : — 

'  My  publishers  express  entire  satisfaction  with  the  reception  which 
has  been  accorded  to  Villetiey  and  indeed  the  majority  of  the  reviews 
have  been  favourable  enough;  you  will  be  aware,  however,  that  there 
is  a  minority,  small  in  number,  but  influential  in  character,  which 
views  the  work  with  no  favourable  eye.  Currer  Bell's  remarks  on 
Romauism  have  drawn  down  on  him  the  condign  displeasure  of  the 
High  Church  party,  which  displeasure  has  been  unequivocally  ex- 
pressed through  their  principal  organs — The  Guardian^  The  English 
Churchman,  and  The  Christian  Remembrancer.  I  can  well  understand 
that  some  of  the  charges  launched  against  me  by  these  publications  will 
tell  heavily  to  my  prejudice  in  the  minds  of  most  readers  —  but  this 
must  be  borne  ;  and  for  my  part  I  can  suffer  no  accusation  to  oppress 
me  much  which  is  not  supported  by  the  inward  evidence  of  con- 
science and  reason.' 


1853 


LETTER  TO  MR.  WILLIAMS 


619 


to  which  Jane  Eyre  was  raised  by  some  injudicious  ad- 
mirers. She  is  where  I  meant  her  to  be,  and  where  no 
charge  of  self-laudation  can  touch  her. 

'  The  note  you  sent  this  morning  from  Lady  Harriet  St. 
Clair  ^  is  precisely  to  the  same  purport  as  Miss  Mulock^'s  ^ 
request — an  application  for  exact  and  authentic  informa- 
tion respecting  the  fate  of  M.  Paul  Emanuel  !  You  see  how 
much  the  ladies  think  of  this  little  man,  whom  you  none 
of  you  like.  I  had  a  letter  the  other  day  announcing  that 
a  lady  of  some  note,  who  had  always  determined  that 
whenever  she  married  her  husband  should  be  the  counter- 
part of  ''Mr.  Knightly''  in  Miss  Austen's  ''Emma,"  had 
now  changed  her  mind,  and  vowed  that  she  would  either 
find  the  duplicate  of  Professor  Emanuel  or  remain  for  ever 
single !  I  have  sent  Lady  Harriet  an  answer  so  w^orded  as 
to  leave  the  matter  pretty  much  where  it  was.  Since  the 
little  puzzle  amuses  the  ladies,  it  would  be  a  pity  to  spoil 
their  sport  by  giving  them  the  key.'^ 

^  This  was  Lady  Harriet  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  the  third  Earl  of 
Rosslyn,  and  sister  of  the  poet.  She  married  Count  Miinster,  German 
Ambassador  to  the  Court  of  St.  James's,  and  died  in  1867. 

2  Dinah  Maria  Mulock,  Mrs.  Craik  (1826-1887),  author  of  John 
Halifax,  Gentleman. 

'  On  March  26  she  writes  to  Mr.  George  Smith  from  Ha  worth — 

*  The  Mail  being  now  fairly  gone  out  (at  least  I  hope  so)  I  venture 
to  write  to  you. 

*I  trust  the  negotiations  to  which  you  allude  in  your  last  will 
be  brought  to  an  early  and  successful  conclusion,  and  that  their  re- 
sult will  really  be  a  division  and  consequent  alleviation  of  labour. 
That  you  had  too  much  to  do,  too  much  to  think  about,  nobody  of 
course  can  know  so  well  as  yourself ;  therefore  it  might  seem  super- 
fluous to  dwell  on  the  subject,  and  yet  a  looker-on  could  not  but  ex- 
perience a  painful  prescience  of  ill  sooner  or  later  ensuing  from  such 
exertions  if  continued.  That  week  of  overwork  which  occurred  when 
I  was  in  London  was  a  thing  not  to  be  forgotten.  Besides  "cultivat- 
ing the  humanities"  be  resolved  to  turn  to  account  some  part  of  your 
leisure  in  getting  fresh  air  and  exercise.  When  people  think  too 
much,  and  sit  too  closely,  the  circulation  loses  its  balance,  forsakes 
the  extremities,  and  bears  with  too  strong  a  current  on  the  brain  ;  I 


620  LIFE  OP  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


When  Easter,  with  its  duties  arising  out  of  sermons  to 
be  preached  by  strange  clergymen,  who  had  afterwards  to 
be  entertained  at  the  Parsonage,  with  Mechanics^  Institute 
meetings,  and  school  tea-drinkings,  was  over  and  gone,  she 
came,  at  the  close  of  April,  to  visit  us  in  Manchester.  We 
had  a  friend,  a  young  lady,  staying  with  us.  Miss  Bronte 
had  expected  to  find  us  alone  ;  and  although  our  friend 
was  gentle  and  sensible  after  Miss  Bronte^s  own  heart,  yet 
her  presence  was  enough  to  create  a  nervous  tremor.  I  was 
aware  that  both  of  our  guests  were  unusually  silent ;  and  I 

suppose  exercise  is  the  best  means  of  counteracting  such  a  state  of 
things.  Pardon  me  if  I  speak  too  much  like  a  doctor.  You  express 
surprise  that  Miss  Marti neau  should  apply  to  you  for  news  of  me. 
The  fact  is,  I  have  never  written  to  her  since  a  letter  I  received  from 
her  about  eight  weeks  ago,  just  after  she  had  read  Villette.  What  is 
more,  I  do  not  know  when  I  can  bring  myself  to  write  again.  The 
differences  of  feeling  between  Miss  M.  and  myself  are  very  strong 
and  marked  ;  very  wide  and  irreconcilable.  Besides,  I  fear  language 
does  not  convey  to  her  apprehension  the  same  meaning  as  to  mine. 
In  short,  she  has  hurt  me  a  good  deal,  and  at  present  it  appears  very 
plain  to  me  that  she  and  I  had  better  not  try  to  be  close  friends  ;  my 
wish,  indeed,  is  that  she  should  quietly  forget  me.  Sundry  notions 
that  she  considers  right  and  grand  strike  me  as  entirely  monstrous  ;  it 
is  of  no  use  telling  her  so.  I  don't  want  to  quarrel  with  her,  but  I 
want  to  be  let  alone.  The  sketch  you  enclose  is  indeed  a  gem  ;  I  sup- 
pose 1  may  keep  it  ?    "Miss  Eyre  "  is  evidently  trying  to  mesmerize 

Pilot"  by  a  stare  of  unique  fixity,  and  I  fear  I  must  add,  stolidity. 
The  embodiment  of  "Mr.  Rochester"  surpasses  anticipation  and 
strikes  panegyric  dumb. 

'  With  regard  to  that  momentous  point  M.  Paul's  fate,  in  case  any 
one  in  future  should  request  to  be  enlightened  thereon,  he  may  be 
told  that  it  was  designed  that  every  reader  should  settle  the  catastro- 
phe for  himself,  according  to  the  quality  of  his  disposition,  the  ten- 
der or  remorseless  impulse  of  his  nature  :  drowning  and  matrimony 
are  the  fearful  alternatives.  The  merciful,  like  Miss  Mulock,  Mr. 
Williams,  Lady  Harriet  St.  Clair,  and  Mr.  Alexander  Fraser,  will  of 
course  choose  the  former  and  milder  doom — drown  him  to  put  him 
out  of  pain.  The  cruel-hearted  will,  on  the  contrary,  pitilessly  impale 
him  on  the  second  horn  of  the  dilemma,  marrying  him  without  ruth 
or  compunction  to  that  —  person  —  that  —  that — individual  — ' '  Lucy 
Suowe." ' 


1853 


HER  NERVOUS  SHYNESS 


621 


saw  a  little  shiver  run  from  time  to  time  over  Miss  Bronte's 
frame.  I  could  account  for  the  modest  reserve  of  the  young 
lady  ;  and  the  next  day  Miss  Bronte  told  me  how  the  unex- 
pected sight  of  a  strange  face  had  aifected  her. 

It  was  now  two  or  three  years  since  I  had  witnessed  a 
similar  effect  produced  on  her,  in  anticipation  of  a  quiet 
evening  at  Fox  How  ;  and  since  then  she  had  seen  many 
and  various  people  in  London :  but  the  physical  sensations 
produced  by  shyness  were  still  the  same  ;  and  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  she  laboured  under  severe  headache.  I  had 
several  opportunities  of  perceiving  how  this  nervousness  ^ 
was  ingrained  in  her  constitution^  and  how  acutely  she 
suffered  in  striving  to  overcome  it.  One  evening  we  had, 
among  other  guests,  two  sisters  who  sang  Scottish  ballads 
exquisitely.  Miss  Bronte  had  been  sitting  quiet  and  con- 
strained till  they  began  '  The  Bonnie  House  of  Airlie,^  but 
the  effect  of  that  and  '  Carlisle  Yetts,'  which  followed,  was 
as  irresistible  as  the  playing  of  the  Piper  of  Hamelin.  The 
beautiful  clear  light  came  into  her  eyes  ;  her  lips  quivered 
with  emotion  ;  she  forgot  herself,  rose,  and  crossed  the 
room  to  the  piano  where  she  asked  eagerly  for  song  after 
song.  The  sisters  begged  her  to  come  and  see  them  the 
next  morning,  when  they  would  sing  as  long  as  ever  she 
liked  ;  and  she  promised  gladly  and  thankfully.  But  on 
reaching  the  house  her  courage  failed.  We  walked  some 
time  up  and  down  the  street  ;  she  upbraiding  herself  all 
the  while  for  folly,  and  trying  to  dwell  on  the  sweet  echoes 
in  her  memory  rather  than  on  the  thought  of  a  third  sister 
who  would  have  to  be  faced  if  we  went  in.  But  it  was  of 
no  use  ;  and  dreading  lest  this  struggle  with  herself  might 
bring  on  one  of  her  trying  headaches,  I  entered  at  last  and 
made  the  best  apology  I  could  for  her  non-appearance. 
Much  of  this  nervous  dread  of  encountering  strangers  I 
ascribed  to  the  idea  of  her  personal  ugliness,  which  had 
been  strongly  impressed  upon  her  imagination  early  in  life, 
and  which  she  exaggerated  to  herself  in  a  remarkable  man- 
ner.    '  I  notice,^  said  she,  '  that  after  a  stranger  has  once 


622 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


looked  at  my  face  he  is  careful  not  to  let  his  eyes  wander 
to  that  part  of  the  room  again  T  A  more  untrue  idea  never 
entered  into  any  one's  head.  Two  gentlemen  who  saw  her 
during  this  visit,  without  knowing  at  the  time  who  she  was, 
were  singularly  attracted  by  her  appearance  ;  and  this  feel- 
ing of  attraction  towards  a  pleasant  countenance,  sweet 
voice,  and  gentle  timid  manners  was  so  strong  in  one  as  to 
conquer  a  dislike  he  had  previously  entertained  to  her 
works. 

There  was  another  circumstance  that  came  to  my  knowl- 
edge at  this  period  which  told  secrets  about  the  finely 
strung  frame.  One  night  I  was  on  the  point  of  relating 
some  dismal  ghost  story,  just  before  bedtime.  She  shrank 
from  hearing  it,  and  confessed  that  she  was  superstitious, 
and  prone  at  all  times  to  the  involuntary  recurrence  of  any 
thoughts  of  ominous  gloom  which  might  have  been  sug- 
gested to  her.  She  said  that  on  first  coming  to  us  she  had 
found  a  letter  on  her  dressing-table  from  a  friend  in  York- 
shire, containing  a  story  which  had  impressed  her  vividly 
ever  since — that  it  mingled  with  her  dreams  at  night  and 
made  her  sleep  restless  and  unrefreshing. 

One  day  we  asked  two  gentlemen  to  meet  her  at  dinner, 
expecting  that  she  and  they  would  have  a  mutual  pleasure 
in  making  each  other^s  acquaintance.  To  our  disappoint- 
ment she  drew  back  with  timid  reserve  from  all  their 
advances,  replying  to  their  questions  and  remarks  in  the 
briefest  manner  possible,  till  at  last  they  gave  up  their 
efforts  to  draw  her  into  conversation  in  despair,  and  talked 
to  each  other  and  my  husband  on  subjects  of  recent  local 
interest.  Among  these  Thackeray's  Lectures  (which  had 
lately  been  delivered  in  Manchester)  were  spoken  of,  and 
that  on  Fielding  especially  dwelt  upon.  One  gentleman 
objected  to  it  strongly  as  calculated  to  do  moral  harm,  and 
regretted  that  a  man  having  so  great  an  influence  over  the 
tone  of  thought  of  the  day  as  Thackeray  should  not  more 
carefully  weigh  his  words.  The  other  took  the  opposite 
view.    He  said  tliat  Thackeray  described  men  from  the 


1853 


FIELDING  AND  THACKERAY 


623 


inside,  as  it  were ;  through  his  strong  power  of  dramatic 
sympathy  he  identified  himself  with  certain  characters,  felt 
their  temptations,  entered  into  their  pleasures,  &c.  This 
roused  Miss  Bronte,  who  threw  herself  warmly  into  the 
discussion ;  the  ice  of  her  reserve  was  broken,  and  from 
that  time  she  showed  her  interest  in  all  that  was  said,  and 
contributed  her  share  to  any  conversation  that  was  going 
on  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 

What  she  said,  and  which  part  she  took  in  the  dispute 
about  Thackeray's  lecture,  may  be  gathered  from  the  follow- 
ing letter,  referring  to  the  same  subject : — 

'  The  Lectures  arrived  safely  ;  I  have  read  them  through 
twice.  They  must  be  studied  to  be  appreciated.  I  thought 
well  of  them  when  I  heard  them  delivered,  but  now  I  see 
their  real  power,  and  it  is  great.  The  lecture  on  Swift  was 
new  to  me  ;  I  thought  it  almost  matchless.  Not  that  by  any 
means  I  always  agree  with  Mr.  Thackeray^s  opinions,  but 
his  force,  his  penetration,  his  pithy  simplicity,  his  eloquence 
— his  manly,  sonorous  eloquence — command  entire  admira- 
tion. .  .  .  Against  his  errors  I  protest,  were  it  treason  to 
do  so.  I  was  present  at  the  Fielding  lecture ;  the  hour 
spent  in  listening  to  it  was  a  painful  hour.  That  Thack- 
eray was  wrong  in  his  way  of  treating  Fielding's  character 
and  vices  my  conscience  told  me.  After  reading  that  lec- 
ture I  trebly  felt  that  he  was  wrong — dangerously  wrong. 
Had  Thackeray  owned  a  son,  grown  or  growing  up,  and  a 
son  brilliant  but  reckless  —  would  he  have  spoken  in  that 
light  way  of  courses  that  lead  to  disgrace  and  the  grave  ? 
He  speaks  of  it  all  as  if  he  theorised ;  as  if  he  had  never  been 
called  on,  in  the  course  of  his  life,  to  witness  the  actual  con- 
sequences of  such  failings  ;  as  if  he  had  never  stood  by  and 
seen  the  issue,  the  final  result  of  it  all.  I  believe,  if  only 
once  the  prospect  of  a  promising  life  blasted  at  the  outset 
by  wild  ways  had  passed  close  under  his  eyes,  he  never 
could  have  spoken  with  such  levity  of  what  led  to  its  piteous 
destruction.    Had  I  a  brother  yet  living,  I  should  tremble 


624  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


to  let  him  read  Thackeray's  lecture  on  Fielding.  I  should 
hide  it  away  from  him.  If,  in  spite  of  precaution,  it  should 
fall  into  his  hands,  I  should  earnestly  pray  him  not  to  be 
misled  by  the  voice  of  the  charmer,  let  him  charm  never  so 
wisely.  Not  that  for  a  moment  I  would  have  had  Thack- 
eray to  abuse  Fielding,  or  even  pharisaically  to  condemn  his 
life ;  but  I  do  most  deeply  grieve  that  it  never  entered  into 
his  heart  sadly  and  nearly  to  feel  the  peril  of  such  a  career, 
that  he  might  have  dedicated  some  of  his  great  strength 
to  a  potent  warning  against  its  adoption  by  any  young  man. 
I  believe  temptation  often  assails  the  finest  manly  natures, 
as  the  pecking  sparrow  or  destructive  wasp  attacks  the 
sweetest  and  mellowest  fruit,  eschewing  what  is  sour  and 
crude.  The  true  lover  of  his  race  ought  to  devote  his 
vigour  to  guard  and  protect ;  he  should  sweep  away  every 
lure  with  a  kind  of  rage  at  its  treachery.  You  will  think 
this  far  too  serious,  I  dare  say  ;  but  the  subject  is  serious, 
and  one  cannot  help  feeling  upon  it  earnestly/ 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


After  her  visit  to  Manchester  she  had  to  return  to  a  re- 
opening of  the  painful  circumstances  of  the  previous  win- 
ter, as  the  time  drew  near  for  Mr.  Nicholls's  departure 
from  Haworth.  A  testimonial  of  respect  from  the  parish- 
ioners ^  was  presented,  at  a  public  meeting,  to  one  who  had 
faithfully  served  them  for  eight  years  :  and  he  left  the 
place,  and  she  saw  no  chance  of  hearing  a  word  about  him 
in  the  future,  unless  it  was  some  second-hand  scrap  of  in- 
telligence, dropped  out  accidentally  by  one  of  the  neigh- 
bouring clergymen. 

Early  in  June  I  received  the  following  letter  from  Miss 
Bronte: — 

*  Haworth  :  June  1,  1853. 

^  June  is  come,  and  now  I  want  to  know  if  you  can  come 
on  Thursday,  the  9th  inst. 

'  Ever  since  I  was  at  Manchester  I  have  been  anticipating 
your  visit.  Not  that  I  attempt  to  justify  myself  in  asking 
you  ;  the  place  has  no  attractions,  as  I  told  you,  here  in 
this  house.  Papa  too  takes  great  interest  in  the  matter.  I 
only  pray  that  the  weather  may  be  fine,  and  that  a  cold,  by 
which  I  am  now  stupefied,  may  be  gone  before  the  9th,  so 
that  I  may  have  no  let  and  hindrance  in  taking  you  on  to 
the  moors — the  sole,  but,  with  one  who  loves  nature  as  you 
do,  not  despicable,  resource. 

^  When  you  take  leave  of  the  domestic  circle  and  turn 

*  A  gold  watch,  which  is  still  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Nicholls. 
The  following  inscription  is  engraved  upon  it:  '  Presented  to  the  Rev. 
A.  B.  Nicholls,  B.A.,  by  the  teachers,  scholars,  and  congregation  of 
St.  Michael's,  Haworth  Yorkshire^.  May  25,  1853,' 


636 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


your  back  on  Plymouth  Grove  to  come  to  Haworth,  you 
must  do  it  in  the  spirit  which  might  sustain  you  in  case 
you  were  setting  out  on  a  brief  trip  to  the  backwoods 
of  America.  Leaving  behind  your  husband,  children,  and 
civilisation,  you  must  come  out  to  barbarism,  loneliness, 
and  liberty.  The  change  will  perhaps  do  good,  if  not  too 
prolonged.  .  .  .  Please,  when  you  write,  to  mention  by 
what  train  you  will  come,  and  at  what  hour  you  will  ar- 
rive at  Keighley  ;  for  I  must  take  measures  to  have  a  con- 
veyance waiting  for  you  at  the  station ;  otherwise,  as  there 
is  no  cab-stand,  you  might  be  inconvenienced  and  hin- 
dered/ 

In  consequence  of  this  invitation  I  promised  to  pay  her 
a  visit  on  my  return  from  London,  but,  after  the  day  was 
fixed,  a  letter  came  from  Mr.  Bronte,  saying  that  she  was 
suffering  from  so  severe  an  attack  of  influenza,  accompanied 
with  such  excruciating  pain  in  the  head,  that  he  must  re- 
quest me  to  defer  my  visit  till  she  was  better.  Whilq  sorry 
for  the  cause  I  did  not  regret  that  my  going  was  delayed 
till  the  season  when  the  moors  would  be  all  glorious  with 
the  purple  bloom  of  the  heather,  and  thus  present  a  scene 
about  which  she  had  often  spoken  to  me.  So  we  agreed 
that  I  should  not  come  to  her  before  August  or  September. 
Meanwhile  I  received  a  letter  from  which  I  am  tempted  to 
take  an  extract,  as  it  shows  both  her  conception  of  what 
fictitious  writing  ought  to  be  and  her  always  kindly  inter- 
est in  what  I  was  doing.  ^ 

^  There  is  a  letter  to  Mr.  George  Smith  dated  Haworth,  July  3  :-— 
*  Thank  you  for  your  kind  inquiries  about  my  father ;  there  is  no 
change  for  the  worse  in  his  sight  since  I  wrote  last ;  rather,  I  think,  a 
tendency  to  improvement.  He  says  the  sort  of  veil  between  him  and 
the  light  appears  thinner  ;  his  general  health  has,  however,  been  lately 
a  good  deal  affected,  and,  desirable  as  it  might  appear  in  some  points 
of  view  to  adopt  your  suggestions  with  reference  to  seeking  the  best 
medical  advice,  I  fear  that  at  present  there  would  be  a  serious  hazard 
in  undertaking  a  long  journey  by  rail.   He  must  become  stronger  than 


1853 


LETTER  TO  MRS.  GASKELL 


627 


'July  9,  1853. 

^  Thank  you  for  your  letter ;  it  was  as  pleasant  as  a  quiet 
chat,  as  welcome  as  spring  showers,  as  reviving  as  a  friend^s 
visit ;  in  short,  it  was  very  like  a  page  of  "  Cranford/'  .  .  . 

he  appears  to  be  just  now,  less  liable  to  sudden  sickness  and  swiniming 
in  the  head,  before  such  a  step  could  be  thought  of. 

'  Your  kind  offer  of  attention  in  case  he  should  ever  come  to  town 
merits  and  has  my  best  acknowledgments.  I  know,  however,  that 
my  father's  first  and  lust  thought  would  be  to  give  trouble  nowhere, 
and  especially  to  infringe  on  no  precious  time.  He  would,  of  course, 
take  private  lodgings. 

'  As  for  me,  I  am  and  have  been  for  some  weeks  pretty  much  as 
usual  again.    That  is  to  say,  no  object  for  solicitude  whatever. 

*  You  do  not  mention  whether  your  mother  and  sisters  are  well,  but 
I  hope  they  are,  and  beg  always  to  be  kindly  remembered  to  them.  I 
hope  too  your  partner,  Mr.  King,  will  soon  acquire  a  working  faculty, 
and  leave  you  some  leisure  and  opportunity  effectually  to  cultivate 
health.' 

There  is  a  further  letter  to  Mr.  Smith  dated  Haworth,  July  14  : — 

*Mr.  Ruskin's  beautiful  book  reached  me  safely  this  morning  ;  its 
arrival  was  a  pleasant  surprise,  as  I  was  far  from  expecting  to  see  it 
so  soon  after  publication.  Of  course  I  have  not  yet  read  it,  but  a 
mere  glance  over  the  pages  suffices  to  excite  anticipation  and  to  give  a 
foretaste  of  excellence.  Acknowledgment  is  also  due  for  the  great 
pleasure  I  derived  from  reading  Dr.  Forbes's  Memorandum  (sent  in 
the  last  Cornhill  parcel).  Without  according  with  every  opinion 
broached,  or  accepting  as  infallible  every  inference  drawn  or  every 
conclusion  arrived  at,  one  cannot  but  like  the  book  and  sincerely  re- 
spect the  author  on  account  of  the  good  sense,  good  feeling,  good 
nature,  and  good  humour  everywhere  obvious  in  his  Memorandum, 

'  About  a  fortnight  since  I  observed  in  the  Examiner  an  intimation 
that  Mr.  Thackeray  is  about  to  issue  a  new  serial.  Is  this  good  news 
true  ?  and  if  so,  do  you  at  all  know  the  subject,  and  are  you  to  pub- 
lish it  ?   I  hope  so. 

'  Mrs.  Gaskell  was  in  town  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  gave  a  most  pro- 
pitious account  of  the  great  man's  present  mood  and  spirits,  but  I  am 
afraid,  after  all  his  fating  in  America,  he  will  find  it  rather  a  dull 
change  to  sit  down  again  to  his  desk,  especially  when  he  is  in  some 
sense  bound  to  refrain  from  the  very  subject  which  must  still  be  up- 
permost in  his  thoughts. 

'My  father's  half- formed  project  of  visiting  London  this  summer 
for  a  few  days  has  been  rather  painfully  frustrated.  In  June  he  had  a 


628 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


A  thought  strikes  me.  Do  you,  who  have  so  many  friends 
— so  large  a  circle  of  acquaintance — find  it  easy,  when 
you  sit  down  to  write,  to  isolate  yourself  from  all  those 
ties,  and  their  sweet  associations,  so  as  to  be  your  oion 
woman,  uninfluenced  or  swayed  by  the  consciousness  of 
how  your  work  may  affect  other  minds ;  what  blame  or 
what  sympathy  it  may  call  forth  ?  Does  no  luminous 
cloud  ever  come  between  you  and  the  severe  Truth,  as 
you  know  it  in  your  own  secret  and  clear-seeing  soul? 
In  a  word,  are  you  never  tempted  to  make  your  characters 
more  amiable  than  the  Life,  by  the  inclination  to  assimi- 
late your  thoughts  to  the  thoughts  of  those  who  always 
feel  kindly,  but  sometimes  fail  to  see  justly?  Don^t  an- 
swer the  question ;  it  is  not  intended  to  be  answered. 
.  .  .  Your  account  of  Mrs.  Stowe  i  was  stimulatingly  in- 
teresting. I  long  to  see  you,  to  get  you  to  say  it,  and 
many  other  things,  all  over  again.  My  father  continues 
better.  I  am  better  too  ;  but  to-day  I  have  a  headache 
again,  which  will  hardly  let  me  write  coherently.  Give 
my  dear  love  to  Meta  and  Marianne,  dear  happy  girls  as 
they  are.  You  cannot  now  transmit  my  message  to  Flossy 
and  Julia.  I  prized  the  little  wild-flower  —  not  that  I 
think  the  sender  cares  for  me ;  she  does  not,  and  cannot , 

sudden  seizure,  which,  without  seeming  greatly  to  affect  his  general 
health,  brought  on  for  a  time  total  blindness.  He  could  not  discern 
between  day  and  night.  I  feared  the  optic  nerve  was  paralysed,  and 
that  he  would  never  see  more.  Vision  has,  however,  been  partially 
restored,  but  it  is  now  very  imperfect.  He  sometimes  utters  a  wish 
that  he  could  see  the  camp  at  Cobham,  but  that  would  not  be  possible 
under  present  circumstances.  I  think  him  very  patient  with  the  ap- 
prehension of  what,  to  him,  would  be  the  greatest  of  privations  hang- 
ing over  his  head.  I  can  but  earnestly  hope  that  what  remains  of 
sight  may  be  spared  him  to  the  end. 

*  I  trust  your  mother  and  sisters  are  well,  and  that  you  have  ere  now 
secured  assistance  and  are  relieved  from  some  part  of  your  hard  work, 
and  consequently  that  your  health  and  spirits  are  improved.' 

^  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  (1811-1896)  wrote  Vncle  Tom's  Cabin  in 
1851. 


1853 


LETTER  TO  MRS.  GASKELL 


029 


for  site  does  not  know  me ;  but  no  matter.  In  my  remi- 
niscences she  is  a  person  of  a  certain  distinction.  I  think 
hers  a  fine  little  nature^  frank  and  of  genuine  promise. 
I  often  see  her,  as  she  appeared,  stepping  supreme  from 
the  portico  towards  the  carriage,  that  evening  we  went 
to  see  ''Twelfth  Night.'"  I  believe  in  Julia's  future;  I 
like  what  speaks  in  her  movements,  and  what  is  written 
upon  her  face.' 

The  following  letter  was  addressed  to  me  soon  after  my 
return  from  a  short  tour  in  Normandy  : — 

'  I  was  glad  to  get  your  little  note,  glad  to  hear  you  were 
at  home  again.  Not  that,  practically,  it  makes  much  differ- 
ence to  me  whether  you  are  in  Normandy  or  Manchester  : 
the  shorter  distance  separates  perhaps  as  effectually  as  the 
longer,  yet  there  is  a  mutual  comfort  in  thinking  that  but 
thirty  miles  intervene. 

'  Come  to  Haworth  as  soon  as  you  can ;  the  heath  is  in 
bloom  now :  I  have  waited  and  watched  for  its  purple  sig- 
nal as  the  forerunner  of  your  coming.  It  will  not  be  quite 
faded  before  the  16th,  but  after  that  it  will  soon  grow  sere. 
Be  sure  to  mention  the  day  and  hour  of  your  arrival  at 
Keighley. 

'  My  father  has  passed  the  summer,  not  well,  yet  better 
than  I  expected.  His  chief  complaint  is  of  weakness  and 
depressed  spirits;  the  prospect  of  your  visit  still  affords 
him  pleasure.  I  am  surprised  to  see  how  he  looks  forward 
to  it.    My  own  health  has  been  much  better  lately. 

'I  suppose  that  Meta  is  ere  this  returned  to  school 
again.  This  summer's  tour  will  no  doubt  furnish  a  life- 
long remembrance  of  pleasure  to  her  and  Marianne.  Great 
would  be  the  joy  of  the  little  ones  at  seeing  you  all  home 
again. 

'I  saw  in  the  papers  the  death  of  Mr.  S.,  of  scarlet  fever, 
at  his  residence  in  Wales.  Was  it  not  there  you  left  Flossy 
and  Julia?  This  thought  recurred  to  me,  with  some  chill- 


630 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BKONTE 


ing  fears  of  what  might  happen;  but  I  trust  that  all  is  safe 
now.    How  is  poor  Mrs.  S.? 

'Remember  me  very,  very  kindly  to  Mr.  Gaskell  and  the 
whole  circle.  Write  when  you  have  time  ;  come  at  the 
earliest  day,  and  believe  me  yours  very  truthfully. 

^C.  Bronte.' 

Towards  the  latter  end  of  September  I  went  to  Haworth. 
At  the  risk  of  repeating  something  which  I  have  previous- 
ly said  I  will  copy  out  parts  of  a  letter  which  I  wrote  at  the 
time. 

f 

'It  was  a  dull,  drizzly,  Indian-inky  day  all  the  way  on 
the  railroad  to  Keighley,  which  is  a  rising  wool-manufact- 
uring town,  lying  in  a  hollow  between  hills — not  a  pretty 
hollow,  but  more  what  the  Yorkshire  people  call  a  ''bot- 
tom,"' or  "  botham.''  I  left  Keighley  in  a  car  for  Haworth, 
four  miles  off — four  tough,  steep,  scrambling  miles,  the 
road  winding  between  the  wavelike  hills  that  rose  and  fell 
on  every  side  of  the  horizon,  with  a  long,  illimitable,  sinu- 
ous look,  as  if  they  were  a  part  of  the  line  of  the  Great 
Serpent  which  the  Norse  legend  says  girdles  the  world. 
The  day  was  lead-coloured ;  the  road  had  stone  factories 
alongside  of  it ;  grey,  dull-coloured  rows  of  stone  cottages 
belonging  to  these  factories  ;  and  then  we  came  to  poor, 
hungry-looking  fields — stone  fences  everywhere,  and  trees 
nowhere.  Haworth  is  a  long,  straggling  village  :  one  steep 
narrow  street — so  steep  that  the  flagstones  with  which  it  is 
paved  are  placed  endways,  that  the  horses'  feet  may  have 
something  to  cling  to,  and  not  slip  down  backwards,  which  if 
they  did  they  would  soon  reach  Keighley.  But  if  the  horses 
had  cats'  feet  and  claws  they  would  do  all  the  better. 
Wei],  we  (the  man,  horse,  car,  and  I)  clambered  up  this 
street,  and  reached  the  church  dedicated  to  St.  Autest 
(who  was  he  ?)  ;^  then  we  turned  off  into  a  lane  on  the  left, 

*  Mrs.  Gaakell  was  misinformed  as  to  *St.  xiutest.*  The  church  at 
Haworth  is  dedicated  to  St.  Michael.  It  is  a  perpetual  curacy,  and  the 


18.53       BIOGRAPHER'S  VISIT  TO  HAWORTH  631 

past  the  curate's  lodging  at  the  sexton's,  past  the  school- 
house,  up  to  the  Parsonage  yard-door.  I  went  round  the 
house  to  the  front  door,  looking  to  the  church ; — moors 
everywhere  beyond  and  above.  The  crowded  graveyard 
surrounds  the  house  and  small  grass  enclosure  for  drying 
clothes. 

^  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  saw  a  spot  more  exquisitely 
clean ;  the  most  dainty  place  for  that  I  ever  saw.  To  be 
sure  the  life  is  like  clockwork.  No  one  comes  to  the  house ; 
nothing  disturbs  the  deep  repose ;  hardly  a  voice  is  heard ; 
you  catch  the  ticking  of  the  clock  in  the  kitchen,  or  the 
buzzing  of  a  fly  in  the  parlour,  all  over  the  house.  Miss 
Bronte  sits  alone  in  her  parlour,  breakfasting  with  her  fa- 
ther in  his  study  at  nine  o'clock.  She  helps  in  the  house 
work  ;  for  one  of  their  servants,  Tabby,  is  nearly  ninety, 
and  the  other  only  a  girl.  Then  I  accompanied  her  in  her 
walks  on  the  sweeping  moors  ;  the  heather  bloom  had  been 
blighted  by  a  thunderstorm  a  day  or  two  before,  and  was 
^  all  of  a  livid  brown  colour,  instead  of  the  blaze  of  purple 
glory  it  ought  to  have  been.  Oh  !  those  high,  wild,  deso- 
late moors,  up  above  the  whole  world,  and  the  very  realms 
of  silence  !  Home  to  dinner  at  two.  Mr.  Bronte  has  his 
dinner  sent  in  to  him.  All  the  small  table  arrangements 
had  the  same  dainty  simplicity  about  them.  Then  we 
rested,  and  talked  over  the  clear  bright  fire  ;  it  is  a  cold 
country,  and  the  fires  gave  a  pretty  warm  dancing  light  all 
over  the  house.  The  parlour  has  been  evidently  refur- 
nished within  the  last  few  years,  since  Miss  Bronte's  success 
has  enabled  her  to  have  a  little  more  money  to  spend. 
Everything  fits  into,  and  is  in  harmony  with,  the  idea  of  a 

net  value  is  stated  to  be  170^.  per  annum.  The  name  of  '  Eutest  * 
is  found  in  a  Latin  inscription  in  tlie  tower,  but  this  was  probably  (J. 
Horsfall  Turner's  Ilaworth,  Past  and  Present)  a  stonemason's  spelling 
of  Eustat,  a  contraction  of  Eustatius.  On  another  stone  is  the  inscrip- 
tion 'Pray  for  ye  Soul  of  Autest— 600 '—probably  the  rough  and 
ready  translation  of  a  seventeenth-century  incumbent,  ambitious  for 
the  antiquity  of  his  church. 


632 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


country  parsonage,  possessed  by  people  of  very  moderate 
means.  The  prevailing  colour  of  the  room  is  crimson,  to 
make  a  warm  setting  for  the  cold  grey  landscape  without. 
There  is  her  likeness  by  Richmond,  and  an  engraving  from 
Lawrence's  picture  of  Thackeray  ;  and  two  recesses,  on 
each  side  of  the  high,  narrow,  old-fashioned  mantelpiece, 
filled  with  books — books  given  to  her,  books  she  has  bought, 
and  which  tell  of  her  individual  pursuits  and  tastes ;  not 
standard  books. 

^  She  cannot  see  well,  and  does  little  beside  knitting. 
The  way  she  weakened  her  eyesight  was  this :  When  she 
was  sixteen  or  seventeen,  she  wanted  much  to  draw ;  and 
she  copied  nimini-pimini  copper-plate  engravings  out  of 
annuals  (^^ stippling'"  don't  the  artists  call  it?),  every  little 
point  put  in,  till  at  the  end  of  six  months  she  had  produced 
an  exquisitely  faithful  copy  of  the  engraving.  She  wanted 
to  learn  to  express  her  ideas  by  drawing.  After  she  had 
tried  to  draw  stories,  and  not  succeeded,  she  took  the  bet- 
ter mode  of  writing,  but  in  so  small  a  hand  that  it  is  al- 
most impossible  to  decipher  what  she  wrote  at  this  time. 

^  But  now  to  return  to  our  quiet  hour  of  rest  after  din- 
ner. I  soon  observed  that  her  habits  of  order  were  such 
that  she  could  not  go  on  with  the  conversation  if  a  chair 
was  out  of  its  place ;  everything  was  arranged  with  delicate 
regularity.  We  talked  over  the  old  times  of  her  childhood; 
of  her  elder  sister's  (Maria's)  death,  just  like  that  of  Helen 
Burns  in  Jane  Eyre" — of  the  desire  (almost  amounting 
to  illness)  of  expressing  herself  in  some  way,  writing  or 
drawing;  of  her  weakened  eyesight,  which  prevented  her 
doing  anything  for  two  years,  from  the  age  of  seventeen 
to  nineteen  ;  of  her  being  a  governess ;  of  her  going  to 
Brussels ;  whereupon  I  said  I  disliked  Lucy  Snowe,  and 

we  discussed  M.  Paul  Emanuel ;  and  I  told  her  of  's 

admiration  of  Shirley,"  which  pleased  her,  for  the  char- 
acter of  Shirley  was  meant  for  her  sister  Emily,  about 
whom  she  is  never  tired  of  talking,  nor  I  of  listening. 
Emily  must  have  been  a  remnant  of  the  Titans,  great- 


1853 


VISIT  TO  HAWORTH 


633 


granddaughter  of  the  giants  who  used  to  inhabit  the  earth. 
One  day  Miss  Bronte  brought  down  a  rough,  common-look- 
ing oil  painting,  done  by  her  brother,  of  herself — a  little 
rather  prim-looking  girl  of  eighteen — and  the  two  other 
sisters,  girls  of  sixteen  and  fourteen,  with  cropped  hair, 
and  sad  dreamy-looking  eyes.  .  .  .  Emily  had  a  great  dog 
— half  mastifif,  half  bulldog — so  savage,  &c.  .  .  .  This  dog 
w^ent  to  her  funeral,  walking  side  by  side  with  her  father ; 
and  then,  to  the  day  of  its  death,  it  slept  at  her  room  door, 
snuflBng  under  it,  and  whining  every  morning. 

^  We  have  generally  had  another  walk  before  tea,  which 
is  at  six ;  at  half-past  eight  prayers ;  and  by  nine  all  the 
household  are  in  bed,  except  ourselves.  We  sit  up  together 
till  ten,  or  past ;  and  after  I  go  I  hear  Miss  Bronte  come 
down  and  walk  up  and  down  the  room  for  an  hour  or  so.^ 

Copying  this  letter  has  brought  the  days  of  that  pleasant 
visit  very  clear  before  me  —  very  sad  in  their  clearness. 
We  were  so  happy  together  ;  we  were  so  full  of  interest  in 
each  other^s  subjects.  The  day  seemed  only  too  short  for 
what  we  had  to  say  and  to  hear.  I  understood  her  life  the 
better  for  seeing  the  place  where  it  had  been  spent — where 
she  had  loved  and  suffered.  Mr.  Bronte  was  a  most  cour- 
teous host;  and  when  he  was  with  us — at  breakfast  in  his 
study,  or  at  tea  in  Charlotte^s  parlour — he  had  a  sort  of 
grand  and  stately  way  of  describing  past  times,  which  tal- 
lied well  with  his  striking  appearance.  He  never  seemed 
quite  to  have  lost  the  feeling  that  Charlotte  was  a  child  to 
be  guided  and  ruled,  when  she  was  present ;  and  she  her- 
self submitted  to  this  with  a  quiet  docility  that  half 
amused,  half  astonished  me.  But  when  she  had  to  leave 
the  room  then  all  his  pride  in  her  genius  and  fame  came 
out.  He  eagerly  listened  to  everything  I  could  tell  him  of 
the  high  admiration  I  had  at  any  time  heard  expressed 
for  her  works.  He  would  ask  for  certain  speeches  over 
and  over  again,  as  if  he  desired  to  impress  them  on  his 
memory. 


634 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


I  remember  two  or  three  subjects  of  the  conversations 
which  she  and  I  held  in  the  evenings^  besides  those  alluded 
to  in  my  letter. 

I  asked  her  whether  she  had  ever  taken  opium,  as  the 
description  given  of  its  effects  in  '  Villette '  was  so  exactly 
like  what  I  had  experienced — vivid  and  exaggerated  pres- 
ence of  objects,  of  which  the  outlines  were  indistinct  or 
lost  in  golden  mist,  &c.  She  replied  that  she  had  never,  to 
her  knowledge,  taken  a  grain  of  it  in  any  shape,  but  that  she 
had  followed  the  process  she  always  adopted  when  she  had 
to  describe  anything  which  had  not  fallen  within  her  own 
experience  ;  she  had  thought  intently  on  it  for  many  and 
many  a  night  before  falling  to  sleep  —  wondering  what  it 
was  like,  or  how  it  would  be — till  at  length,  sometimes  after 
the  progress  of  her  story  had  been  arrested  at  this  one  point 
for  weeks,  she  wakened  up  in  the  morning  with  all  clear 
before  her,  as  if  she  had  in  reality  gone  through  the  ex- 
perience, and  then  could  describe  it,  word  for  word,  as  it 
had  happened.  I  cannot  account  for  this  psychologically  ; 
I  only  am  sure  that  it  was  so,  because  she  said  it. 

She  made  many  inquiries  as  to  Mrs.  Stowe^s  personal 
appearance ;  and  it  evidently  harmonised  well  with  some 
theory  of  hers  to  hear  that  the  author  of  ^  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin^  was  small  and  slight.  It  was  another  of  her  theories 
that  no  mixtures  of  blood  produce  such  fine  characters, 
mentally  and  morally,  as  the  Scottish  and  English. 

I  recollect,  too,  her  saying  how  acutely  she  dreaded  a 
charge  of  plagiarism  when,  after  she  had  written  ^  Jane 
Eyre,'  she  read  the  thrilling  effect  of  the  mysterious  scream 
at  midnight  in  Mrs.  Marshes  ^  story  of  the  '  Deformed.^  She 

^  Mrs.  Marsh  (1799-1874),  whose  maiden  name  was  Anne  Caldwell, 
wrote  many  novels  and  some  historical  works.  Of  Mordaunt  Hall  the 
Sun  of  1849  wrote  that  it  was  '  the  most  beautiful  of  many  beautiful 
tales  yet  written  by  its  author.  It  fascinates  the  attention  of  the  reader 
like  Scott's  never  to  be  forgotten  story  of  Lucy  Ashton;'  and  the  Spec- 
tator wrote  of  Norman's  Bridge  that  it  '  surpasses  anything  that  this 
writer — or  perhaps  any  other  writer — has  done,  if  we  except  Godwin's 
chef-d'ceuvre. ' 


1853       REMINISCENCES  OF  CONVERSATIONS  635 


also  said  that,  when  she  read  the  ^  Neighbours/  she  thought 
every  one  would  fancy  that  she  must  have  taken  her  con- 
ception of  Jane  Eyre's  character  from  that  of  ^Francesca/ 
the  narrator  of  Miss  Bremer's  story.  For  my  own  part,  I 
cannot  see  the  slightest  resemblance  between  the  two  char- 
acters, and  so  I  told  her ;  but  she  persisted  in  saying  that 
Francesca  was  Jane  Eyre  married  to  a  good-natured  '  Bear' 
of  a  Swedish  surgeon. 

We  went,  not  purposely,  but  accidentally,  to  see  various 
poor  people  in  our  distant  walks.  From  one  we  had  bor- 
rowed an  umbrella ;  in  the  house  of  another  we  had  taken 
shelter  from  a  rough  September  storm.  In  all  these  cot- 
tages her  quiet  presence  was  known.  At  three  miles  from 
her  home  the  chair  was  dusted  for  her,  with  a  kindly  '  Sit 
ye  down,  Miss  Bronte  ;'  and  she  knew  what  absent  or  ailing 
members  of  the  family  to  inquire  after.  Her  quiet,  gentle 
words,  few  though  they  might  be,  were  evidently  grateful 
to  those  Yorkshire  ears.  Their  welcome  to  her,  though 
rough  and  curt,  was  sincere  and  hearty. 

We  talked  about  the  different  courses  through  which  life 
ran.  She  said  in  her  own  composed  manner,  as  if  she  had 
accepted  the  theory  as  a  fact,  that  she  believed  some  were 
appointed  beforehand  to  sorrow  and  much  disappointment ; 
that  it  did  not  fall  to  the  lot  of  all — as  Scripture  told  us — 
to  have  their  lines  fall  in  pleasant  places  ;  that  it  was  well 
for  those  who  had  rougher  paths  to  perceive  that  such  was 
God's  will  concerning  them,  and  try  to  moderate  their  ex- 
pectations, leaving  hope  to  those  of  a  different  doom,  and 
seeking  patience  and  resignation  as  the  virtues  they  were 
to  cultivate.  I  took  a  different  view  :  I  thought  that  hu- 
man lots  were  more  equal  than  she  imagined  ;  that  to  some 
happiness  and  sorrow  came  in  strong  patches  of  light  and 
shadow  (so  to  speak),  while  in  the  lives  of  others  they  were 
pretty  equally  blended  throughout.  She  smiled,  and  shook 
her  head,  and  said  she  was  trying  to  school  herself  against 
ever  anticipating  any  pleasure  ;  that  it  was  better  to  be  brave 
and  submit  faithfully;  there  was  some  good  reason,  which 


636 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


we  should  know  in  time,  why  sorrow  and  disappointment 
were  to  be  the  lot  of  some  on  earth.  It  was  better  to  ac- 
knowledge this,  and  face  out  the  truth  in  a  religious  faith. 

In  connection  with  this  conversation  she  named  a  little 
abortive  plan  which  I  had  not  heard  of  till  then  ;  how,  in 
the  previous  July,  she  had  been  tempted  to  join  some  friends 
(a  married  couple  and  their  child)  in  an  excursion  to  Scot- 
land. They  set  out  joyfully  ;  she  with  special  gladness,  for 
Scotland  was  a  land  which  had  its  roots  deep  down  in  her 
imaginative  affections,  and  the  glimpse  of  two  days  at  Ed- 
inburgh was  all  she  had  yet  seen  of  it.  But,  at  the  first 
stage  after  Carlisle,  the  little  yearling  child  was  taken  with 
a  slight  indisposition  ;  the  anxious  parents  fancied  that 
strange  diet  had  disagreed  with  it,  and  hurried  back  to 
their  Yorkshire  home  as  eagerly  as,  two  or  three  days  be- 
fore, they  had  set  their  faces  northward  in  hopes  of  a 
month's  pleasant  ramble. 

We  parted  with  many  intentions,  on  both  sides,  of  renew- 
ing very  frequently  the  pleasure  we  had  had  in  being  to- 
gether. We  agreed  that  when  she  wanted  bustle,  or  when 
I  wanted  quiet,  we  were  to  let  each  other  know,  and  ex- 
change visits  as  occasion  required. 

I  was  aware  that  she  had  a  great  anxiety  on  her  mind  at 
this  time  ;  and  being  acquainted  with  its  nature,  I  could 
not  but  deeply  admire  the  patient  docility  which  she  dis- 
played in  her  conduct  towards  her  father. 

Soon  after  I  left  Haworth  she  went  on  a  visit  to  Miss 
Wooler,  who  was  then  staying  at  Hornsea.  The  time 
passed  quietly  and  happily  with  this  friend,  whose  society 
was  endeared  to  her  by  every  year. 

TO  MISS  WOOLER. 

'  December  12, 1853. 
•  I  wonder  how  you  are  spending  these  long  winter  even- 
ings.    Alone,  probably,  like  me.     The  thought  often 
crosses  me,  as  I  sit  by  myself,  how  pleasant  it  would  be  if 
you  lived  within  a  walking  distance,  and  I  could  go  to  you 


I85i     LETTER  TO  MR.  DOBELL  ON  ^BALDER'  637 


sometimes^  or  have  you  to  come  and  spend  a  day  and  night 
with  me.  Yes  ;  I  did  enjoy  that  week  at  Hornsea,  and  I 
look  forward  to  spring  as  the  period  when  you  will  fulfil 
your  promise  of  coming  to  visit  me.  I  fear  you  must  be 
very  solitary  at  Hornsea.  How  hard  to  some  people  of  the 
world  it  would  seem  to  live  your  life  I  how  utterly  impos- 
sible to  live  it  with  a  serene  spirit  and  an  unsoured  disposi- 
tion !    It  seems  wonderful  to  me,  because  you  are  not,  like 

Mrs.  R  ,  phlegmatic  and  impenetrable,  but  received 

from  nature  feelings  of  the  very  finest  edge.  Such  feel- 
ings, when  they  are  locked  up,  sometimes  damage  the 
mind  and  temper.  They  don't  with  you.  It  must  be 
partly  principle,  partly  self-discipline,  which  keeps  you  as 
you  are.' 

Of  course,  as  I  draw  nearer  to  the  years  so  recently 
closed,  it  becomes  impossible  for  me  to  write  with  the 
same  fulness  of  detail  as  I  have  hitherto  not  felt  it  wrong 
to  use.  Miss  Bronte  passed  the  winter  of  1853-4  in  a 
solitary  and  anxious  manner.  But  the  great  conqueror 
Time  was  slowly  achieving  his  victory  over  strong  preju- 
dice and  human  resolve.  By  degrees  Mr.  Bronte  became 
reconciled  to  the  idea  of  his  daughter's  marriage. 

There  is  one  other  letter — addressed  to  Mr.  Dobell — 
which  develops  the  intellectual  side  of  her  character,  be- 
fore we  lose  all  thought  of  the  authoress  in  the  timid  and 
conscientious  woman  about  to  become  a  wife,  and  in  the 
too  short,  almost  perfect,  happiness  of  her  nine  months  of 
wedded  life. 

'  Haworth,  near  Keigliley  : 
'  February  3,  1854. 
^  My  dear  Sir, — I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  to 
have  an  opportunity  of  explaining  that  taciturnity  to  which 
you  allude.  Your  letter  came  at  a  period  of  danger  and 
care,  when  my  father  was  very  ill,  and  I  could  not  leave 
his  bedside.  I  answered  no  letters  at  that  time,  and  yours 
was  one  of  three  or  four  that,  when  leisure  returned  to 


638 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


me,  and  I  came  to  consider  their  purport,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  the  time  was  past  for  answering  them,  and  I  laid 
them  finally  aside.  If  you  remember,  you  asked  me  to  go 
to  London  ;  it  was  too  late  either  to  go  or  to  decline.  I 
was  sure  you  had  left  London.  One  circumstance  you 
mentioned — your  wife^s  illness — which  I  have  thought  of 
many  a  time,  and  wondered  whether  she  is  better.  In 
your  present  note  you  do  not  refer  to  her,  but  I  trust  her 
health  has  long  ere  now  been  quite  restored. 

^  Balder  ^  arrived  safely.  I  looked  at  him,  before  cutting 
his  leaves,  with  singular  pleasure.  Remembering  well  his 
elder  brother,  the  potent  Roman,"  it  was  natural  to  give 
a  cordial  welcome  to  a  fresh  scion  of  the  same  house  and 
race.  I  have  read  him.  He  impresses  me  thus  :  He  teems 
with  power ;  I  found  in  him  a  wild  wealth  of  life,  but  I 
thought  his  favourite  and  favoured  child  would  bring  his 
sire  trouble — would  make  his  heart  ache.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  his  strength  and  beauty  were  not  so  much  those  of 
Joseph,  the  pillar  of  Jacob's  age,  as  of  the  Prodigal  Son, 
who  troubled  his  father,  though  he  always  kept  his  love. 

^  How  is  it  that  while  the  first  -  born  of  genius  often 
brings  honour  the  second  almost  as  often  proves  a  source 
of  depression  and  care  ?  I  could  almost  prophesy  that  your 
third  will  atone  for  any  anxiety  inflicted  by  this  his  imme- 
diate predecessor. 

^  There  is  power  in  that  character  of  Balder,'^  and  to 
me  a  certain  horror.  Did  you  mean  it  to  embody,  along 
with  force,  any  of  the  special  defects  of  the  artistic  char- 
acter ?    It  seems  to  me  that  those  defects  were  never 

^  Sydney  Dobell's  Balder,  published  in  1853,  was,  writes  Professor 
Nicliol  in  the  Dictionary  of  National  Biography,  'with  the  general 
public  and  the  majority  of  critics  less  fortunate  than  The  Roman.  It 
is  harder  to  read,  as  it  was  harder  to  write  .  .  .  but  it  exhibits  the 
highest  flights  of  the  author's  imagination  and  his  finest  pictures  of 
Nature.  The  descriptions  of  Chamouni,  of  the  Coliseum,  of  spring, 
and  of  the  summer's  day  on  the  hill  almost  sustain  the  comparisons 
which  they  provoke.' 


1854      LETTER  TO  xMR.  DOBELL  ON  *  BALDER'  G39 


thrown  out  in  stronger  lines.  I  did  not  and  could  not 
think  you  meant  to  offer  him  as  your  cherished  ideal  of 
the  true  great  poet ;  I  regard  him  as  a  vividly  coloured 
picture  of  inflated  self-esteem^  almost  frantic  aspiration  ; 
of  a  nature  that  has  made  a  Moloch  of  intellect — offered 
up,  in  pagan  fires,  the  natural  affections  —  sacrificed  the 
heart  to  the  brain.  Do  we  not  all  know  that  true  great- 
ness is  simple,  self-oblivious,  prone  to  unambitious,  un- 
selfish attachments  ?  I  am  certain  you  feel  this  truth  in 
your  heart  of  hearts. 

^  But  if  the  critics  err  now  (as  yet  I  have  seen  none  of 
their  lucubrations)  you  shall  one  day  set  them  right  in  the 
second  part  of  Balder. You  shall  show  them  that  you 
too  know — better,  perhaps  than  they — that  the  truly  great 
man  is  too  sincere  in  his  affections  to  grudge  a  sacrifice ; 
too  much  absorbed  in  his  work  to  talk  loudly  about  it ;  too 
intent  on  finding  the  best  way  to  accomplish  what  he  un- 
dertakes to  think  great  things  of  himself — the  instrument. 
And  if  God  places  seeming  impediments  in  his  way — if  his 
duties  sometimes  seem  to  hamper  his  powers  —  he  feels 
keenly,  perhaps  writhes  under,  the  slow  torture  of  hin- 
drance and  delay  ;  but  if  there  be  a  true  man^s  heart  in  his 
breast  he  can  bear,  submit,  wait  patiently. 

^  Whoever  speaks  to  me  of  Balder  ^' — though  I  live  too 
retired  a  life  to  come  often  in  the  way  of  comment  —  shall 
be  answered  according  to  your  suggestion  and  my  own  im- 
pression. Equity  demands  that  you  should  be  your  own 
interpreter.  Good-bye  for  the  present,  and  believe  me, 
faithfully  and  gratefully,  Charlotte  Brokte.^ 

A  letter  to  her  Brussels  schoolfellow*  gives  an  idea  of 
the  external  course  of  things  during  this  winter. 

•  March  8. 

^  I  was  very  glad  to  see  your  handwriting  again.  It  is,  I 
believe,  a  year  since  I  heard  from  you.    Again  and  again 


Lsetitia  Wheelwright. 


640 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


you  have  recurred  to  my  thoughts  lately,  and  I  was  be- 
ginning to  have  some  sad  presages  as  to  the  cause  of 
your  silence.  Your  letter  happily  does  away  with  all 
these  ;  it  brings,  on  the  whole,  glad  tidings  both  of  your 
papa,  mamma,  your  sisters,  and,  last  but  not  least,  your 
dear  respected  English  self. 

^My  dear  father  has  borne  the  severe  winter  very  well,  a 
circumstance  for  which  I  feel  the  more  thankful  as  he  had 
many  weeks  of  very  precarious  health  last  summer,  follow- 
ing an  attack  from  which  he  suffered  in  J une,  and  which  for 
a  few  hours  deprived  him  totally  of  sight,  though  neither 
his  mind,  speech,  nor  even  his  powers  of  motion,  were  in 
the  least  affected.  I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  thankful  I  was 
when,  after  that  dreary  and  almost  despairing  interval  of 
utter  darkness,  some  gleam  of  daylight  became  visible  to 
him  once  more.  I  had  feared  that  paralysis  had  seized  the 
optic  nerve.  A  sort  of  mist  remained  for  a  long  time  ;  and, 
indeed,  his  vision  is  not  yet  perfectly  clear,  but  he  can 
read,  write,  and  walk  about,  and  he  preaches  twice  every 
Sunday,  the  curate  only  reading  the  prayers.  You  can 
well  understand  how  earnestly  I  wish  and  pray  that  sight 
may  be  spared  him  to  the  end  ;  he  so  dreads  the  privation 
of  blindness.  His  mind  is  just  as  strong  and  active  as  ever, 
and  politics  interest  him  as  they  do  your  papa.  The  Czar, 
the  war,  the  alliance  between  France  and  England — into 
all  these  things  he  throws  himself  heart  and  soul ;  they 
seem  to  carry  him  back  to  his  comparatively  young  days, 
and  to  renew  the  excitement  of  the  last  great  European 
struggle.  Of  course  my  father's  sympathies  (and  mine 
too)  are  all  with  Justice  and  Europe  against  Tyranny  and 
Russia. 

^  Circumstanced  as  I  have  been,  you  will  comprehend 
that  I  have  had  neither  the  leisure  nor  the  inclination  to  go 
from  home  much  during  the  past  year.  I  spent  a  w^eek  with 
Mrs.  Gaskell  in  the  spring,  and  a  fortnight  with  some  other 
friends  more  recently,  and  that  includes  the  whole  of  my 
visiting  since  I  saw  you  last.    My  life  is,  indeed,  very  uni- 


1854 


HER  ENGAGEMENT 


641 


form  and  retired — more  so  than  is  quite  healthful  either 
for  mind  or  body  :  yet  I  find  reason  for  often-renewed  feel- 
ings of  gratitude,  in  the  sort  of  support  which  still  comes 
and  cheers  me  on  from  time  to  time.  My  health,  though 
not  unbroken,  is,  I  sometimes  fancy,  rather  stronger  on  the 
whole  than  it  was  three  years  ago  :  headache  and  dyspepsia 
are  my  worst  ailments.  Whether  I  shall  come  up  to  town 
this  season  for  a  few  days  I  do  not  yet  know ;  but  if  I  do  I 
shall  hope  to  call  in  Phillimore  Place. ^ 

In  April  she  communicated  the  fact  of  her  engagement 
to  Miss  Wooler. 

*Haworth:  April  12. 

^  My  dear  Miss  Wooler, — The  truly  kind  interest  which 
you  have  always  taken  in  my  affairs  makes  me  feel  that 
it  is  due  to  you  to  transmit  an  early  communication  on  a 
subject  respecting  which  I  have  already  consulted  you 
more  than  once.  I  must  tell  you  then  that  since  I  wrote 
last  papa^s  mind  has  gradually  come  round  to  a  view 
very  different  to  that  which  he  once  took  ;  and  that  after 
some  correspondence,  and  as  the  result  of  a  visit  Mr. 
NichoUs  paid  here  about  a  week  ago,  it  was  agreed  that 
he  was  to  resume  the  curacy  of  Haworth,  as  soon  as  pa- 
pa^s  present  assistant  is  provided  with  a  situation,  and 
in  due  course  of  time  he  is  to  be  received  as  an  inmate 
into  this  house. 

^It  gives  me  unspeakable  content  to  see  that  now  my 
father  has  once  admitted  this  new  view  of  the  case  he 
dwells  on  it  very  complacently.  In  all  arrangements  his 
convenience  and  seclusion  will  be  scriVpulously  respected. 
Mr.  Nicholls  seems  deeply  to  feel  the  wish  to  comfort  and 
sustain  his  declining  years.  I  think  from  Mr.  Nicholls^s 
character  I  may  depend  on  this  not  being  a  mere  transitory, 
impulsive  feeling,  but  rather  that  it  will  be  accepted  steadi- 
ly as  a  duty,  and  discharged  tenderly  as  an  office  of  affec- 
tion. The  destiny  which  Providence  in  His  goodness  and 
wisdom  seems  to  offer  me  will  not,  I  am  aware,  be  gen- 
41 


642 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


erally  regarded  as  brilliant,  but  I  trust  I  see  in  it  some 
germs  of  real  happiness.  I  trust  the  demands  of  both 
feeling  and  duty  will  be  in  some  measure  reconciled  by 
the  step  in  contemplation.  It  is  Mr.  NichoUs^s  wish  that 
the  marriage  should  take  place  this  summer  ;  he  urges  the 
month  of  July,  but  that  seems  very  soon. 

^  When  you  write  to  me,  tell  me  how  you  are.  ...  I 
have  now  decidedly  declined  the  visit  to  London ;  the  en- 
suing three  months  will  bring  me  abundance  of  occupation  ; 
I  could  not  afford  to  throw  away  a  month.  .  .  .  Papa  has 
just  got  a  letter  from  the  good  and  dear  Bishop,  which  has 
touched  and  pleased  us  much ;  it  expresses  so  cordial  an 
approbation  of  Mr.  Nicholls's  return  to  Haworth  (respect- 
ing which  he  was  consulted),  and  such  kind  gratification  at 
the  domestic  arrangements  which  are  to  ensue.  It  seems 
his  penetration  discovered  the  state  of  things  when  he  was 
here  in  June,  1853.^ 

She  expressed  herself  in  other  letters  as  thankful  to  One 
who  had  guided  her  through  much  difficulty  and  much  dis- 
tress and  perplexity  of  mind  ;  and  yet  she  felt  what  most 
thoughtful  women  do  who  marry  when  the  first  flush  of 
careless  youth  is  over,  that  there  was  a  strange,  half  -  sad 
feeling  in  making  announcements  of  an  engagement — for 
cares  and  fears  came  mingled  inextricably  with  hopes.  One 
great  relief  to  her  mind  at  this  time  was  derived  from  the 
conviction  that  her  father  took  a  positive  pleasure  in  all  the 
thoughts  about  and  preparations  for  her  wedding.  He  was 
anxious  that  things  should  be  expedited,  and  was  much 
interested  in  every  preliminary  arrangement  for  the  recep- 
tion of  Mr.  Nicholls  into  the  Parsonage  as  his  daughter's 
husband.  This  step  was  rendered  necessary  by  Mr.  Bronte's 
great  age  and  failing  sight,  which  made  it  a  paramount 
obligation  on  so  dutiful  a  daughter  as  Charlotte  to  devote 
as  much  time  and  assistance  as  ever  in  attending  to  his 
wants.  Mr.  Nicholls,  too,  hoped  that  he  might  be  able  to 
add  some  comfort  and  pleasure  by  his  ready  presence  on 


VaUcer&B  0LiLali,pli.  sc. 


1854       PREPARATIONS  FOR  HER  MARRIAGE  643 


any  occasion  when  the  old  clergyman  might  need  his  ser- 
vices.^ 

At  the  beginning  of  May  Miss  Bronte  left  home  to  pay 
three  visits  before  her  marriage.  The  first  was  to  us.  She 

^  The  following  letter  to  Mr.  George  Smith  is  dated  April  25, 1854. 
Mrs.  Richmond  Ritchie,  the  daughter  of  Thackeray,  recalls  that  Mr. 
George  Smith  read  it  to  her  father  when  she — then  a  very  little  girl — 
was  present: — 

'  Thank  you  for  your  congratulations  and  good  wishes  ;  if  these  last 
are  realised  but  in  part,  I  shall  be  very  thankful.  It  gave  me  also  sin- 
cere pleasure  to  be  assured  of  your  own  happiness,  though  of  that  I 
never  doubted.  I  have  faith  also  in  its  permanent  character,  provided 
Mrs.  George  Smith  is  what  it  pleases  me  to  fancy  her  to  be.  You 
never  told  me  any  particulars  about  her,  though  I  should  have  liked 
them  much,  but  did  not  like  to  ask  questions,  knowing  how  much 
your  mind  and  time  would  be  engaged.  What  I  have  to  say  is  soon 
told. 

*  The  step  in  contemplation  is  no  hasty  one  ;  on  the  gentleman's  side 
at  least  it  has  been  meditated  for  many  years,  and  I  hope  that  in  at  last 
acceding  to  it  I  am  acting  right;  it  is  what  I  earnestly  wish  to  do.  My 
future  husband  is  a  clergyman.  He  was  for  eight  years  my  father's 
curate.  He  left  because  the  idea  of  this  marriage  was  not  entertained 
as  he  wished.  His  departure  was  regarded  by  the  parish  as  a  calam- 
ity, for  he  had  devoted  himself  to  his  duties  with  no  ordinary  dili- 
gence. Various  circumstances  have  led  my  father  to  consent  to  his 
return,  nor  can  I  deny  that  my  own  feelings  have  been  much  im- 
pressed and  changed  by  the  nature  and  strength  of  the  qualities 
brought  out  in  the  course  of  his  long  attachment.  I  fear  I  must  ac- 
cuse myself  of  having  formerly  done  him  less  than  justice.  However 
he  is  to  come  back  now.  He  has  foregone  many  chances  of  prefer- 
ment to  return  to  the  obscure  village  of  Haworth.  I  believe  I  do  right 
in  marrying  him.  I  mean  to  try  to  make  him  a  good  wife.  There 
has  been  heavy  anxiety,  but  I  begin  to  hope  all  will  end  for  the  best. 
My  expectations,  however,  are  very  subdued — very  different,  I  dare 
say,  to  what  yours  were  before  you  were  married.  Care  and  Fear 
stand  so  close  to  Hope  I  sometimes  scarcely  can  see  her  for  the  shadow 
they  cast.  And  yet  I  am  thankful  too,  and  the  doubtful  future  must 
be  left  with  Providence. 

*  On  one  feature  in  the  marriage  I  can  dwell  with  unmingled  satis- 
faction, with  a  certainty  of  being  right.  It  takes  nothing  from  the  at- 
tention I  owe  to  my  father.  I  am  not  to  leave  him  ;  my  future  hus- 
band consents  to  come  here ;  thus  papa  secures  by  the  step  a  devoted 


644  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


only  remained  three  days,  as  she  had  to  go  to  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Leeds,  there  to  make  such  purchases  as  were  re- 
quired for  her  marriage.  Her  preparations,  as  she  said, 
could  neither  be  expensive  nor  extensive,  consisting  chiefly 
in  a  modest  replenishing  of  her  wardrobe,  some  repapering 
and  repainting  in  the  Parsonage,  and,  above  all,  converting 
the  small  flagged  passage  room,  hitherto  used  only  for  stores 
(which  was  behind  her  sitting-room),  into  a  study  for  her 
husband.  On  this  idea,  and  plans  for  his  comfort,  as  well 
as  her  father's,  her  mind  dwelt  a  good  deal ;  and  we  talked 
them  over  with  the  same  unwearying  happiness  which,  I 
suppose,  all  women  feel  in  such  discussions,  especially 
when  money  considerations  call  for  that  kind  of  contrivance 
which  Charles  Lamb  speaks  of  in  his  ^  Essay  on  Old  China  ^ 
as  forming  so  great  an  addition  to  the  pleasure  of  obtain- 
ing a  thing  at  last. 

'Haworth:  May  22. 
^  Since  I  came  home  I  have  been  very  busy  stitching ; 
the  little  new  room  is  got  into  order,  and  the  green  and 
white  curtains  are  up  ;  they  exactly  suit  the  papering,  and 
look  neat  and  clean  enough.  I  had  a  letter  a  day  or  two 
since  announcing  that  Mr.  Nicholls  comes  to-morrow.  I 
feel  anxious  about  him  ;  more  anxious  on  one  point  than  I 
dare  quite  express  to  myself.  It  seems  he  has  again  been 
suffering  sharply  from  his  rheumatic  affection.  I  hear  this 
not  from  himself,  but  from  another  quarter.  He  was  ill 
while  I  was  in  Manchester  and  Brookroyd.  He  uttered  no 
complaint  to  me  ;  dropped  no  hint  on  the  subject.  Alas  ! 
he  was  hoping  he  had  got  the  better  of  it,  and  I  know  how 
this  contradiction  of  his  hopes  will  sadden  him.  For  un- 
selfish reasons  he  did  so  earnestly  wish  this  complaint 

and  reliable  assistant  in  his  old  age.  There  can,  of  course,  be  no  rea- 
son for  withholding  the  intelligence  from  your  mother  and  sisters; 
remember  me  kindly  to  them  whenever  you  write. 

'  I  hardly  know  in  what  form  of  greeting  to  include  your  wife's 
name,  as  I  have  never  seen  her  ;  say  to  her  whatever  may  seem  to  you 
most  appropriate  and  most  expressive  of  goodwill.* 


1854 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  HER  MARRIAGE  645 


might  not  become  chronic.  I  fear — I  fear ;  ^  but  if  he  is 
doomed  to  suffer  so  much  the  more  will  he  need  care  and 
help.  Well  !  come  what  may^  God  help  and  strengthen 
both  him  and  me  !  I  look  forward  to  to-morrow  with  a 
mixture  of  impatience  and  anxiety.' 

Mr.  Bronte  had  a  slight  illness^  which  alarmed  her  much. 
Besides,  all  the  weight  of  care  involved  in  the  household 
preparations  pressed  on  the  bride  in  this  case  —  not  un- 
pleasantly, only  to  the  full  occupation  of  her  time.  She 
was  too  busy  to  unpack  her  wedding  dresses  for  several 
days  after  they  arrived  from  Halifax;  yet  not  too  busy  to 
think  of  arrangements  by  which  Miss  Wooler's  journey  to 
be  present  at  the  marriage  could  be  facilitated. 

^  I  write  to  Miss  Wooler  to-day.  Would  it  not  be  better, 
dear/  if  you  and  she  could  arrange  to  come  to  Haworth  on 
the  same  day,  arrrive  at  Keighley  by  the  same  train  ?  Then 
I  could  order  the  cab  to  meet  you  at  the  station,  and  bring 
you  on  with  your  luggage.  In  this  hot  weather  walking 
would  be  quite  out  of  the  question,  either  for  you  or  for 
her  ;  and  I  know  she  would  persist  in  doing  it  if  left  to 
herself,  and  arrive  half  killed.  I  thought  it  better  to 
mention  this  arrangement  to  you  first,  and  then,  if  you  liked 
it,  you  could  settle  the  time,  &c.,  with  Miss  Wooler,  and  let 
me  know.  Be  sure  and  give  me  timely  information,  that 
I  may  write  to  the  Devonshire  Arms  about  the  cab. 

'  Mr.  Nicholls  is  a  kind,  considerate  fellow.  With  all  his 
masculine  faults  he  enters  into  my  wishes  about  having  the 
thing  done  quietly,  in  a  way  that  makes  me  grateful ;  and 
if  nobody  interferes  and  spoils  his  arrangements  he  will 
manage  it  so  that  not  a  soul  in  Haworth  shall  be  aware  of 

^  A  passage  omitted  by  Mrs.  Gaskell  runs — 

*But,  however,  I  mean  to  stand  by  him  now,  whether  in  weal  or  woe. 
This  liability  to  rheumatic  pain  was  one  of  the  strong  arguments  used 
against  the  marriage.  It  did  not  weigh  somehow.  If  he  is  doomed 
to  suffer,'  &c. 

2  Miss  Ellen  Nussey.   The  letter  is  dated  June  16,  1854. 


646  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


the  day.  He  is  so  thoughtful^  too,  about  ^^the  ladies"^ — 
that  is,  you  and  Miss  Wooler.  Anticipating,  too,  the  very 
arrangements  I  was  going  to  propose  to  him  about  provid- 
ing for  your  departure,  &c.  He  and  Mr.  Sowden^  come  to 
Mr.  Grant^s  the  evening  before ;  write  me  a  note  to  let  me 
know  they  are  there;  precisely  at  eight  in  the  morning  they 
will  be  in  the  church,  and  there  we  are  to  meet  them.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Grant  are  asked  to  the  breakfast,  not  to  the  cere- 
mony.^ 

It  was  fixed  that  the  marriage  was  to  take  place  on  June 
29.  Her  two  friends  arrived  at  Haworth  Parsonage  the 
day  before ;  and  the  long  summer  afternoon  and  evening 
were  spent  by  Charlotte  in  thoughtful  arrangements  for 
the  morrow,  and  for  her  father's  comfort  during  her  ab- 
sence from  home.  When  all  was  finished  —  the  trunk 
packed,  the  morning's  breakfast  arranged,  the  wedding 
dress  laid  out — just  at  bedtime,  Mr.  Bronte  announced  his 
intention  of  stopping  at  home  while  the  others  went  to 
church.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Who  was  to  give  the 
bride  away  ?  There  were  only  to  be  the  officiating  clergy- 
man, the  bride  and  bridegroom,  the  bridesmaid,  and  Miss 
Wooler  present.  The  Prayer  Book  was  referred  to,  and 
there  it  was  seen  that  the  rubric  enjoins  that  the  minister 
shall  receive  ^the  woman  from  her  father's  or  friend's 
hand,'  and  that  nothing  is  specified  as  to  the  sex  of  the 
friend.  So  Miss  Wooler,  ever  kind  in  emergency,  volun- 
teered to  give  her  old  pupil  away. 

The  news  of  the  wedding  had  slipt  abroad  before  the 
little  party  came  out  of  church,  and  many  old  and  humble 
friends  were  there,  seeing  her  look  ^like  a  snowdrop,'  as 
they  say.   Her  dress  was  white  embroidered  muslin,  with  a 

^  The  Rev.  Sutcliffe  Sowden,  who  performed  the  marriage  ceremony 
for  Charlotte  Bronte  and  Mr.  Nicholls,  has  been  dead  for  many  years 
now.  He  and  his  brother  the  Rev.  George  Sowden  (1822-1899),  canon 
of  Wakefield  Cathedral  and  vicar  of  Hebden  Bridge,  Yorks,  were  the 
most  intimate  friends  of  Mr.  Nicholls  at  the  time  of  his  marriage. 


1854 


WEDDED  HAPPINESS 


647 


lace  mantle^  and  white  bonnet  trimmed  with  green  leaves, 
which  perhaps  might  suggest  the  resemblance  to  the  pale 
wintry  flower. 

Mr.  Nicholls  and  she  went  to  visit  his  friends  and  rela- 
tions in  Ireland  ;  and  made  a  tour  by  Killarney,  GlengarifiE, 
Tarbert,  Tralee^  and  Cork,  seeing  scenery  of  which  she  says, 
'  Some  parts  exceeded  all  I  had  ever  imagined.  ...  I  must 
say  I  like  my  new  relations.  My  dear  husband,  too,  ap- 
pears in  a  new  light  in  his  own  country.  More  than  once 
I  have  had  deep  pleasure  in  hearing  his  praises  on  all  sides. 
Some  of  the  old  servants  and  followers  of  the  family  tell 
me  I  am  a  most  fortunate  person ;  for  that  I  have  got  one 
of  the  best  gentlemen  in  the  country.  ...  I  trust  I  feel 
thankful  to  God  for  having  enabled  me  to  make  what 
seems  a  right  choice  ;  and  I  pray  to  be  enabled  to  repay 
as  I  ought  the  affectionate  devotion  of  a  truthful,  honour- 
able man.^ 

Henceforward  the  sacred  doors  of  home  are  closed  upon 
her  married  life.  We,  her  loving  friends,  standing  out- 
side, caught  occasional  glimpses  of  brightness,  and  pleas- 
ant, peaceful  murmurs  of  sound,  telling  of  the  gladness 
within  ;  and  we  looked  at  each  other,  and  gently  said, 
^  After  a  hard  and  long  struggle  —  after  many  cares  and 
many  bitter  sorrows — she  is  tasting  happiness  now  V  We 
thought  of  the  slight  astringencies  of  her  character,  and 
how  they  would  turn  to  full  ripe'  sweetness  in  that  calm 
sunshine  of  domestic  peace.  We  remembered  her  trials, 
and  were  glad  in  the  idea  that  God  had  seen  fit  to  wipe 
away  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  Those  who  saw  her  saw  an 
outward  change  in  her  look,  telling  of  inward  things. 
And  we  thought,  and  we  hoped,  and  we  prophesied,  in 
our  great  love  and  reverence.^ 

^  Mr.  NichollvS  repudiates  a  statement  that  has  received  currency  to 
the  effect  that  he  discouraged  his  wife's  literary  activities.  He  recalls 
that  she  sat  with  him  one  evening  at  Haworth,  and  as  they  read  to- 
gether the  opening  chapter  of  a  new  novel  they  cl^atted  pleasantly 
over  the  possible  development  of  the  plot. 


648 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


But  God^s  ways  are  not  as  our  ways ! 
Hear  some  of  the  low  murmurs  of  happiness  we,  who 
listened,  heard  :  ^ — 

'  I  really  seem  to  have  had  scarcely  a  spare  moment  since 
that  dim,  quiet  June  morning  when  you,  Ellen,  and  my- 
self all  walked  down  to  Ha  worth  Church.  Not  that  I  have 
been  wearied  or  oppressed  ;  but  the  fact  is  my  time  is  not 
my  own  now  ;  somebody  else  wants  a  good  portion  of  it, 
and  says,  We  must  do  so  and  so/^  We  do  so  and  so,  ac- 
cordingly ;  and  it  generally  seems  the  right  thing.  .  .  . 
We  have  had  many  callers  from  a  distance,  and  latterly 
some  little  occupation  in  the  way  of  preparing  for  a  small 
village  entertainment.  Both  Mr.  Nicholls  and  myself  wish- 
ed much  to  make  some  response  for  the  hearty  welcome 
and  general  goodwill  shown  by  the  parishioners  on  his  re- 
turn ;  accordingly  the  Sunday  and  day  scholars  and  teach- 
ers, the  church  ringers,  singers,  &c.,  to  the  number  of  five 
hundred,  were  asked  to  tea  and  supper  in  the  schoolroom. 
They  seemed  to  enjoy  it  much,  and  it  was  very  pleasant  to 
see  their  happiness.  One  of  the  villagers,  in  proposing  my 
husband^s  health,  described  him  as  a  ^'consistent  Christian 
mid  a  hind  gentleman.'^  I  own  the  words  touched  me 
deeply,  and  I  thought  (as  I  know  you  would  have  thought 
had  you  been  present)  that  to  merit  and  win  such  a  char- 
acter was  better  than  to  earn  either  wealth,  or  fame,  or 
power.  I  am  disposed  to  echo  that  high  but  simple  eulo- 
gium.  .  .  .  My  dear  father  was  not  well  when  we  returned 
from  Ireland.  I  am,  however,  most  thankful  to  say  that 
he  is  better  now.  May  God  preserve  him  to  us  yet  for 
some  years !  The  wish  for  his  continued  life,  together 
with  a  certain  solicitude  for  his  happiness  and  health, 
seems,  I  scarcely  know  why,  even  stronger  in  me  now  than 
before  I  was  married.  Papa  has  taken  no  duty  since  we 
returned ;  and  each  time  I  see  Mr.  NichoUs  put  on  gown 


*  Letter  to  Miss  Wooler. 


1854 


HAPPY  MARRIED  LIFE 


649 


or  surplice  I  feel  comforted  to  think  that  this  marriage 
has  secured  papa  good  aid  in  his  old  age/ 

'  September  19. 

^Yes!  I  am  thankful  to  say  my  husband  is  in  improved 
health  and  spirits.  It  makes  me  content  and  grateful  to 
hear  him  from  time  to  time  avow  his  happiness  in  the  brief, 
plain  phrase  of  sincerity.  My  own  life  is  more  occupied 
than  it  used  to  be  :  I  have  not  so  much  time  for  thinking: 
I  am  obliged  to  be  more  practical,  for  my  dear  Arthur  is 
a  very  practical  as  well  as  a  very  punctual  and  methodical 
man.  Every  morning  he  is  in  the  National  School  by  nine 
o^clock;  he  gives  the  children  religious  instruction  till  half- 
past  ten.  Almost  every  afternoon  he  pays  visits  amongst 
the  poor  parishioners.  Of  course  he  often  finds  a  little 
work  for  his  wife  to  do,  and  I  hope  she  is  not  sorry  to  help 
him.  I  believe  it  is  not  bad  for  me  that  his  bent  should 
be  so  wholly  towards  matters  of  life  and  active  usefulness, 
so  little  inclined  to  the  literary  and  contemplative.  As  to 
his  continued  affection  and  kind  attentions,  it  does  not 
become  me  to  say  much  of  them ;  but  they  neither  change 
nor  diminish.^ 

Her  friend  and  bridesmaid  came  to  pay  them  a  visit  in 
October.  I  was  to  have  gone  also,  but  I  allowed  some  little 
obstacle  to  intervene  to  my  lasting  regret. 

^I  say  nothing  about  the  war;  but  when  I  read  of  its 
horrors  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  it  is  one  of  the  great- 
est curses  that  ever  fell  upon  mankind.  I  trust  it  may  not 
last  long,  for  it  really  seems  to  me  that  no  glory  to  be 
gained  can  compensate  for  the  sufferings  which  must  be 
endured.  This  may  seem  a  little  ignoble  and  unpatriotic  ; 
but  I  think  that  as  we  advance  towards  middle  age  noble- 
ness and  patriotism  have  a  different  signification  to  us  to 
that  which  we  accept  while  young. 

'  You  kindly  inquire  after  papa.  He  is  better,  and  seems 
to  gain  strength  as  the  weather  gets  colder  ;  indeed,  of  late 


G50 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


years  his  health  has  always  been  better  in  winter  than  in 
summer.  We  are  all  indeed  pretty  well ;  and,  for  my  own 
part,  it  is  long  since  I  have  known  such  comparative  im- 
munity from  headache,  &c.,  as  during  the  last  three  months. 
My  life  is  different  from  what  it  used  to  be.  May  God  make 
me  thankful  for  it !  I  have  a  good,  kind,  attached  husband, 
and  every  day  my  own  attachment  to  him  grows  stronger.^ 

Late  in  the  autumn  Sir  James  Kay-Shuttleworth  crossed 
the  border  hills  that  separate  Lancashire  from  Yorkshire, 
and  spent  two  or  three  days  with  them. 
*  About  this  time  Mr.  Nicholls  was  offered  a  living  of  much 
greater  value  than  his  curacy  at  Haworth,^  and  in  many 
ways  the  proposal  was  a  very  advantageous  one,  but  he  felt 
himself  bound  to  Haworth  as  long  as  Mr.  Bronte  lived. 
Still,  this  offer  gave  his  wife  great  and  true  pleasure,  as  a 
proof  of  the  respect  in  which  her  husband  was  held. 

*  November  29. 

intended  to  have  written  a  line  yesterday,  but  just  as 
I  was  sitting  down  for  the  purpose  Arthur  called  to  me  to 
take  a  walk.  We  set  off,  not  intending  to  go  far  ;  but, 
though  wild  and  cloudy,  it  was  fair  in  the  morning ;  when 
we  had  got  about  half  a  mile  on  the  moors  Arthur  sug- 
gested the  idea  of  the  waterfall ;  after  the  melted  snow,  he 
said,  it  would  be  fine.  I  had  often  wished  to  see  it  in  its 
winter  power ;  so  we  walked  on.  It  was  fine  indeed ;  a 
perfect  torrent  racing  over  the  rocks,  white  and  beautiful  I 
It  began  to  rain  while  we  were  watching  it,  and  we  returned 
home  under  a  streaming  sky.  However  I  enjoyed  the  walk 
inexpressibly,  and  would  not  have  missed  the  spectacle  on 
any  account.'' 

She  did  not  achieve  this  walk  of  seven  or  eight  miles  in 
such  weather  with  impunity.  She  began  to  shiver  soon 
after  her  return  home,  in  spite  of  every  precaution,  and 

'  At  Padiham,  near  Gawthorpe,  in  the  gift  of  Sir  J.  Kay-Shuttle- 
worth. 


1855  HER  LAST  ILLNESS  651 

had  a  bad,  lingering  sore  throat  and  cold,  which  hung 
about  her  and  made  her  thin  and  weak. 

^  Did  I  tell  you  that  our  poor  little  Flossy  is  dead  ?  She 
drooped  for  a  single  day,  and  died  quietly  in  the  night 
without  pain.  The  loss  even  of  a  dog  was  very  saddening  ; 
yet,  perhaps,  no  dog  ever  had  a  happier  life  or  an  easier 
death.' 

On  Christmas  Day  she  and  her  husband  walked  to  the 
poor  old  woman  whose  calf  she  had  been  set  to  seek  in 
former  and  less  happy  days,  carrying  with  them  a  great 
spice  cake  to  make  glad  her  heart.  On  Christmas  Day 
many  a  humble  meal  in  Haworth  was  made  more  plentiful 
by  her  gifts. 

Early  in  the  new  year  (1855)  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nicholls  went 
to  visit  Sir  James  Kay-Shuttleworth  at  Gawthorpe.  They 
only  remained  two  or  three  days,  but  it  so  fell  out  that  she 
increased  her  lingering  cold  by  a  long  walk  over  damp 
ground  in  thin  shoes. 

Soon  after  her  return  she  was  attacked  by  new  sensations 
of  perpetual  nausea  and  ever  recurring  faintness.  After 
this  state  of  things  had  lasted  for  some  time  she  yielded  to 
Mr.  Nicholls's  wish  that  a  doctor  should  be  sent  for.  He 
came,  and  assigned  a  natural  cause  for  her  miserable  indis- 
position ;  a  little  patience  and  all  would  go  right.  She, 
who  was  ever  patient  in  illness,  tried  hard  to  bear  up  and 
bear  on.  But  the  dreadful  sickness  increased  and  in- 
creased, till  the  very  sight  of  food  occasioned  nausea.  ^  A 
wren  would  have  starved  on  what  she  ate  during  those  last 
six  weeks,*  says  one.  Tabby's  health  had  suddenly  and  ut- 
terly given  way,  and  she  died  in  this  time  of  distress  and 
anxiety  respecting  the  last  daughter  of  the  house  she  had 
served  so  long.  Martha  tenderly  waited  on  her  mistress, 
and  from  time  to  time  tried  to  cheer  her  with  the  thought  of 
the  baby  that  was  coming.  '  I  dare  say  I  shall  be  glad  some 

time,' she  would  say;  ^but  I  am  so  ill — so  weary  ' 

Then  she  took  to  her  bed,  too  weak  to  sit  up.    From  that 


652 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


last  conch  she  wrote  two  notes  in  penciL  The  first,  which 
has  no  date,  is  addressed  to  her  own  ^Dear  Nell/^ 

^  I  must  write  one  line  out  of  my  dreary  bed.  The  news 
of  Mercy^s  probable  recovery  came  like  a  ray  of  joy  to  me. 
I  am  not  going  to  talk  of  my  sufferings  ;  it  would  be  use- 
less and  painful.  I  want  to  give  you  an  assurance  which  I 
know  will  comfort  you,  and  that  is  that  I  find  in  my  hus- 
band the  tenderest  nurse,  the  kindest  support,  the  best 
earthly  comfort  that  ever  woman  had.  His  patience  never 
fails,  and  it  is  tried  by  sad  days  and  broken  nights.  Write 

and  tell  me  about  Mrs.   's  case ;  how  long  was  she  ill, 

and  in  what  way  ?  Papa— thank  God  !— is  better.  Our 
poor  old  Tabby  is  dead  and  huried.  Give  my  kind  love  to 
Miss  Wooler.    May  God  comfort  and  help  you  ! 

^C.  B.  NlCHOLLS.^ 

The  other — also  in  faint,  faint  pencil  marks — was  to  her 
Brussels  schoolfellow. 

'February  15. 

^  A  few  lines  of  acknowledgment  your  letter  shall  have, 
whether  well  or  ill.  At  present  I  am  confined  to  my  bed 
with  illness,  and  have  been  so  for  three  weeks.  Up  to  this 
period,  since  my  marriage,  I  have  had  excellent  health. 
My  husband  and  I  live  at  home  with  my  father ;  of  course 
I  could  not  leave  him.  He  is  pretty  well,  better  than  last 
summer.  No  kinder,  better  husband  than  mine,  it  seems 
to  me,  there  can  be  in  the  world.  I  do  not  want  now  for 
kind  companionship  in  health  and  the  tenderest  nursing  in 
sickness.  Deeply  I  sympathise  in  all  you  tell  me  about  Dr. 
W.  and  your  excellent  mother^s  anxiety.  I  trust  he  will 
not  risk  another  operation.  I  cannot  write  more  now  ;  for 
I  am  much  reduced  and  very  weak.  Good  bless  you  all ! — 
Yours  affectionately,  C.  B.  Nicholls.^ 

^  There  were  actually  three  pencil  notes,  two  to  Miss  Nussey  and 
one  to  Miss  Wheelwright.  The  late  Miss  Nussey's  letters  are  in  the 
Bronte  Museum  at  Haworth.  Miss  Wheelwright's  pencilled  letter, 
and  a  few  of  the  others  that  Miss  Bronte  addressed  to  her,  are  still  in 
her  possession. 


1855 


HER  LAST  ILLNESS 


653 


I  do  not  think  she  ever  wrote  a  line  again.  ^  Long  days 
and  longer  nights  went  by ;  still  the  same  relentless  nausea 
and  faintness,  and  still  borne  on  in  patient  trust.  About 
the  third  week  in  March  there  was  a  change ;  a  low,  wan- 
dering delirium  came  on  ;  and  in  it  she  begged  constantly 
for  food  and  even  for  stimulants.  She  swallowed  eagerly 
now  ;  but  it  was  too  late.  Wakening  for  an  instant  from 
this  stupor  of  intelligence,  she  saw  her  husband^s  woe- 
worn  face,  and  caught  the  sound  of  some  murmured  words 
of  prayer  that  God  would  spare  her.  '  Oh!"  she  whispered 
forth,  am  not  going  to  die,  am  I?  He  will  not  separate 
us,  we  have  been  so  happy. ^ 

Early  on  Saturday  morning,  March  31,  the  solemn  toll- 
ing of  Haworth  church  bell  spoke  forth  the  fact  of  her 
death  to  the  villagers  who  had  known  her  from  a  child, 
and  whose  hearts  shivered  within  them  as  they  thought  of 
the  two  sitting  desolate  and  alone  in  the  old  grey  house. 

*  This  letter  to  Miss  Nussey  would  seem  to  have  been  written  a  lit- 
tle later.  It  is  not  dated,  but  it  is  printed  later  in  the  privately 
issued  volume  of  letters  to  which  reference  has  been  made  else- 
where : — 

*My  dear  Ellen, — Thank  you  very  much  for  Mrs.  Hewitt's  sensible, 
clear Jetter.  Thank  her  too.  In  much  her  case  was  wonderfully  like 
mine,  but  I  am  reduced  to  greater  weakness  ;  the  skeleton  emaciation 
is  the  same.  I  cannot  talk.  Even  to  my  dear,  patient,  constant 
Arthur  I  can  say  but  few  words  at  once. 

'  These  last  two  days  I  have  been  somewhat  better,  and  have  taken 
some  beef-tea,  a  spoonful  of  wine  and  water,  a  mouthful  of  light  pud- 
ding at  different  times. 

'  Dear  Ellen,  I  realise  full  well  what  you  have  gone  through  and 
will  have  to  go  through  with  poor  Mercy.  Oh,  may  you  continue  to 
be  supported  and  not  sink  !  Sickness  here  has  been  terribly  rife. 
Kindest  regards  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clapham,  your  mother,  Mercy. 
Write  when  you  can. — Yours, 

*C.  B.  NiCHOLLS.' 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


I  HAVE  always  been  much  struck  with  a  passage  in  Mr. 
Forster^s  ^Life  of  Goldsmith/*  Speaking  of  the  scene 
after  his  death,  the  writer  says — 

'  The  staircase  of  Brick  Court  is  said  to  have  been  filled 
with  mourners,  the  reverse  of  domestic ;  women  without  a 
home,  without  domesticity  of  any  kind,  with  no  friend  but 
him  they  had  come  to  weep  for  ;  outcasts  of  that  great  soli- 
tary wicked  city,  to  whom  he  had  never  forgotten  to  be 
kind  and  charitable/ 

This  came  into  my  mind  when  I  heard  of  some  of  the 
circumstances  attendant  on  Charlotte^s  funeral. 

Few  beyond  that  circle  of  hills  knew  that  she,  whom  the 
nations  praised  far  oflE,  lay  dead  that  Easter  morning.  Of 
kith  and  kin  she  had  more  in  the  grave  to  which  she  was 
soon  to  be  borne  than  among  the  living.  The  two  mourn- 
ers, stunned  with  their  great  grief,  desired  not  the  sym- 
pathy of  strangers.^    One  member  out  of  most  of  the 

J  John  Forster  (1812-1876)  wrote  his  Life  of  Goldsmith  in  1848. 
2  Mr.  Bronte  wrote  to  Mr.  George  Smith  as  follows  : — 

*  Haworth,  near  Keighley: 
*  April  20,  1855. 

*  My  dear  Sir, — I  thank  you  for  your  kind  sympathy.  Having  heard 
my  dear  daughter  speak  so  much  about  you  and  your  family,  your 
letter  seemed  to  be  one  from  an  old  friend.  Her  husband's  sorrow 
and  mine  is  indeed  very  great.  We  mourn  the  loss  of  one  whose  like 
we  hope  not  ever  to  see  again,  and,  as  you  justly  state,  we  do  not 
mourn  alone.    That  you  may  never  experimentally  know  sorrow  such 


1855  MOURNERS  AT  HER  FUNERAL  655 


families  in  the  parish  was  bidden  to  the  funeral ;  and  it  be- 
came an  act  of  self-denial  in  many  a  poor  household  to  give 
up  to  another  the  privilege  of  paying  their  last  homage  to 
her ;  and  those  who  were  excluded  from  the  formal  train 
of  mourners  thronged  the  churchyard  and  churchy  to  see 
carried  forth  and  laid  beside  her  own  people,  her  whom, 
not  many  months  ago,  they  had  looked  at  as  a  pale  white 
bride,  entering  on  a  new  life  with  trembling  happy  hope. 

Among  those  humble  friends  who  passionately  grieved 
over  the  dead  was  a  village  girl  that  had  been  betrayed 
some  little  time  before,  but  who  had  found  a  holy  sister  in 
Charlotte.  She  had  sheltered  her  with  her  help,  her  coun- 
sel, her  strengthening  words ;  had  ministered  to  her  needs 
in  her  time  of  trial.  Bitter,  bitter  was  the  grief  of  this 
poor  young  woman,  when  she  heard  that  her  friend  was 
sick  unto  death,  and  deep  is  her  mourning  until  this  day. 
A  blind  girl,  living  some  four  miles  from  Haworth,  loved 
Mrs.  NichoUs  so  dearly  that,  with  many  cries  and  entreaties, 
she  implored  those  about  her  to  lead  her  along  the  roads, 
and  over  the  moor  paths,  that  she  might  hear  the  last  sol- 
emn words,  ^  Earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust ; 
in  sure  and  certain  hope  of  the  resurrection  to  eternal  life, 
through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.^ 

Such  were  the  mourners  over  Charlotte  Bronte^s  grave. 

I  have  little  more  to  say.  If  my  readers  find  that  I  have 
not  said  enough,  I  have  said  too  much.  I  cannot  measure 
or  judge  of  such  a  character  as  hers.  I  cannot  map  out 
vices,  and  virtues,  and  debatable  land.  One  who  knew  her 
long  and  well — the  ^  Mary  ^  of  this  Life — writes  thus  of  her 

as  ours,  aud  that  when  trouble  does  come  you  may  receive  due  aid 
from  Heaven,  is  the  sincere  wish  and  ardent  prayer  of 

*  Yours  very  respectfully  and  truly, 
*P.  Bronte. 

'To 

*  George  Smith,  Esq., 

'  65  Cornhill,  London.* 


656  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


dead  friend :  ^  She  thought  much  of  her  duty,  and  had 
loftier  and  clearer  notions  of  it  than  most  people,  and  held 
fast  to  them  with  more  success.  It  was  done,  it  seems  to 
me,  with  much  more  difficulty  than  people  have  of  stronger 
nerves  and  better  fortunes.  All  her  life  was  but  labour 
and  pain;  and  she  never  threw  down  the  burden  for  the 
sake  of  present  pleasure.  I  don^t  know  what  use  you  can 
make  of  all  I  have  said.  I  have  written  it  with  the 
strong  desire  to  obtain  appreciation  for  her.  Yet  what 
does  it  matter  ?  She  herself  appealed  to  the  world's  judg- 
ment for  her  use  of  some  of  the  faculties  she  had — not 
the  best,  but  still  the  only  ones  she  could  turn  to  stran- 
gers^ benefit.  They  heartily,  greedily  enjoyed  the  fruits 
of  her  labours,  and  then  found  out  she  was  much  to  be 
blamed  for  possessing  such  faculties.  Why  ask  for  a  judg- 
ment on  her  from  such  a  world  ?^ 

But  I  turn  from  the  critical,  unsympathetic  public,  in- 
clined to  judge  harshly  because  they  have  only  seen  super- 
ficially and  not  thought  deeply.  I  appeal  to  that  larger 
and  more  solemn  public  who  know  how  to  look  with  ten- 
der humility  at  faults,  and  errors,  how  to  admire  generous- 
ly extraordinary  genius,  and  how  to  reverence  with  warm, 
full  hearts  all  noble  virtue.  To  that  Public  I  commit  the 
memory  of  Charlotte  Bronte. 


INDEX 


Abbotsford,  471,  488 
Academy  of  Arts,  Royal,  139-40,  171, 
373,  377  n,  531 

*  Agnes  Grey,'  see  Anne  Bronte's 

works 

Ahaderg,  co.  Down,  36  n 
Ambleside,  493,  506,  508  ff,  699  n 
Antwerp,  253 
Arnold,  Matthew,  512-13 
Arnold,  Mrs.,  504,  512-13 
Arnold,  Thomas    (Dr.),   489,  499, 
502-503,  509,  512-13 

*  Athenaeum,  The,'  310,  341,  342,  434, 

465,  487,  608  n 

Atkinson,  H.  G.,  514,  517 

Atkinson,  Mr.,  135 

Audubon,  J.  J.,  135 

Austen,  Jane,  360-62,  564  w,  619 

Aykroyd,  Tabitha  ('Tabby'),  57  «, 
61  w,  82,  83,  129,  167,  175,  187, 
214  w,  264,  276,  281-82,  307, 
322-23,  429-30,  470-71,  610, 
534  n,  538,  591,  631,  651 

Aylott  and  Jones,  300-303,  305, 308- 
11,  313-15 

Balzac,  H.  de,  494,  607  n 
Bardsley,  Rev.  T.  W.,  201  n 
Bath,  164 

*  Bath  Herald,'  343  n 
Batley,  99 

Batt,  Captain,  100 

Bell  Church,  Thornton,  46  n 

Bell,  Rev.  Alan,  604  n 

Benson,  A.  C,  his  life  of  Archbishop 

Benson  quoted,  177  n 
^Bentley's  Magazine,'  309 
Bewick,  T.,  135 


Bierley,  45  n 

Biggar,  Miss,  566  n 

Birch,  Attorney  -  General  and  Major- 

General,  101 
Birstall,  99, 102  n,  135,  181, 184,  199, 

201,  209,  279,  303,  330,  333,  427, 

528 

'Blackwood's  Magazine,'  88,  154  n, 

213,  310 
Blake  Hall,  175  7i,  193  n,  214  n 
Blanche,  Mile.,  234,  263-64  n,  271  n 
Bland,  Susan,  203 

*  Bookman,  The,'  617 

Book  of  Common  Prayer,  128  n 
Borrow,  George,  his  *  Bible  in  Spain,' 

303  n 
Bossuet,  242 
Bradford,  1,  15,  205  n 
Bradford,  Vicar  of,  The  patron  of 

Haworth,  27 
Bradley,  Rev.  Richard,  462  71 
Branwell,  Anne,  4:1  n 
Branwell,  Charlotte,  41  w 
Branwell,  Elizabeth,  41,  61-63,  83, 

124,  128  7i,  152,  169,  174,  191-92, 

217,  251  252 
Branwell,  John,  200  n 
Branwell,  Maria,  see  Mrs.  Patiick 

Bronte 

Branwell,  Thomas,  39,  41  n 
Bran  wells  of  Cornwall,  41  n 
Bremer,  Frederika,  558,  635 
Brewster,  Sir  David,  535,  537-38,561 
Bridlington,  see  Burlington 
Briery,  480  ff,  484 
'  Britannia,'  310,  353 

*  Brocklehurst,  Mr.,'  346,  see  also  Rev. 

Cams  Wilson 


657 


658 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Bromsgrove,  305 
Bronte,  Anne 

her  birth,  8  n,  10  w,  38  n,  46 

baptism,  47  n 

childhood,  50  fiP,  59,  86  ff 

and  Miss  Bran  well,  61  ti,  191, 
253  n 

at  school,  151  fly  170 

as  governess,  176  w,  193,  213-14, 
221 

and  Emily,  166 

and  Miss  Nussey,  167,  406  ff 

and  Charlotte,  170,176,  211,  216- 

16,  349,  356,  369,  396-97  n, 

466 

her  diary,  212-13  w 
her  visit  to  London,  371-72 
and  the  Misses  Robinson,  389 
her  letters  to  Miss  Nussey,  405, 
407 

and  Miss  Outhwaite,  412  n 
her  illnesses,  327,  350,  365,  389 
at  Scarborough,  411-20 
her  last  illness  and  death,  392- 

94,  399-418,419 
her  grave,  419  586 
mural  tablet  to,  8-10 
her  appearance,  129 
her  portrait,  138 
her  works : — 
juvenile  writings,  92  n 
Poems,  299  ff,  306,  396  w, 

408  ff,  487 
*Agnes  Grey,'  176,  298,  320, 
332, 354, 355, 374  n,  491, 492 
'  The  Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall,' 
302  n,  369-70,  374  w,  491, 
507 

Bronte,  Charlotte 

her  birth,  8  w,  10  n^SS  w,  46 
baptism,  47  n 
childhood,  50,  56-59 
and  Miss  Branwell,  61  n,  191, 
253  n 

school  life  at  Cowan  Bridge,  64, 

72,  77  ff,  80,  82,  104 
school  life  at  Roe  Head,  98, 

101  ff,  120-21,  170 
her  portraits,  58,  138,  474-76, 

497-98,  614,  632 
her  list  of  painters,  89 


Bronte,  Charlotte — cont. 

as  Sunday  school  teacher,  125, 

203,  332 
her  eyesight,  125  w,  290,  632 
her  study  of  French,  126,  231  n, 

236-43,  265-69,  277  ff 
her  fear  of  death,  130,  144 
on  the  choice  of  books,  134 
visits  the  Nusseys,  126,  136,  144, 

279,  293,  305,  306,  339,  473, 

510,  571-73,  598  n 
as  a  teacher  at  Roe  Head,  140-51 
her  religious  views,  146-48, 157, 

166-66,  244,  271-72,  636 
writes  to  Coleridge,  153 
correspondence   with  Southey, 

153,  159-64 
and  Anne,  170,  176,  210,  215, 

349-50,  356,  369,  396-97  n, 

466 

and^mily,  232-34,  235,  243,  248, 

252,  386  ff,  397  rt,  410-11,  424 
first  offer  of  marriage,  173-74 
second  offer  of  marriage,  184 
third  offer  of  marriage,  521 
fourth  offer  of  marriage,  602-604 
as  a  governess,  175-80,  201,  203, 

206-10,  214  n 
projects  for  keeping  a  school, 

192,  211-13,  215-20,  283-86, 

325 

early  pseudonyms,  195 
on  marriage,  198,  220-21  305 
on  French  literature,  200 
at  Brussels,  218,  220-22,  223-63, 
258-78 

at  the  Chapter  Coffee  House,  226, 

258,  371,  376  w,'378 
and  the  Hegers,  232-43 
her  study  of  German,  240  n,  269, 

263  w,  269-70,  274 
and  the  Confessor,  271-72 
her  love  of  animals,  280-81 
her  investments,  304,  430-31 
her  father's  operation  for  the 

cataract,  316-20 
her  method  of  writing,  323-26 
and  Harriet  Martineau,  324,  440- 

41 

and  Thackeray,  340,  349,  364, 
566  71,  622-24 


INDEX 


669 


Bronte,  Charlotte — cont. 

and  G.  H.  Lewes,  341  n,  350-55, 
359-64 

her  visits  to  London,  225,  258, 
371-80,  438-41,468-72,  526- 
38,  601  w,  604  ff 
at  the  opera,  373,  376,  380 
and  the  '  Quarterly  Review,'  395- 
98,  428 

visits  Scarborough,  411-28,  586- 
88 

visits  Edinburgh,  471 
visits  a  phrenologist,  540  ff 
on  Mr.  George  Smith's  *  phreno- 
logical estimate,'  542  nS.,  551- 
52  n 

and  Thackeray's  portrait,  614-15 
visited  by  Mrs.  Gaskell,  496-99, 

627,  629-36 
her  engagement  with  Mr.  Nich- 

olls,  602  ff,  687,  642  ff 
her  marriage,  645  ff 
her  illness  and  death,  651  ff 
mural  tablet  to,  9-10 
her  appearance,  103  ff,  190  ff 
her  character,  248,  603 
her  father,  see   Rev.  Patrick 

Bronte 

her  mother,  see  Mrs.  Patrick 
Bronte 

her  sisters,  see  Anne  Bronte, 
Emily  Bronte,  Elizabeth 
Bronte,  Marie  Bronte 

her  brother,  see  Patrick  Bran- 
well  Bronte 

her  works  : — 

juvenile  writings,  85-93,  95 
early  literary  attempts,  158, 
194 

Poems,  95,  153,  299  ff,  487 
see  Poems  by  Currer,  Ellis, 
and  Acton  Bell 

*Emma,'  194  w 

*  Jane  Evre,'  130,  144,  173, 
302  71, 323, 584  w,  632,  634 
authorship  of,  345  7i,  368- 

72,  388  n 
inception,  321,  323  ff,  332 
manuscript  of,  338,  339 
publication  of,  339 
preface,  340  n 


Bronte,  Charlotte — cont 
her  works  : — 

*  Jane  Eyre ' — cont. 
dedication,  349 
reprint,  363,  386,  454  n 
in  America,  370,  474  n 
reception,  340  ff,  359-60, 

461,  489 
Cowan  Bridge  controversy, 

64,  346,  381 
and  the  '  Quarterly  Review,* 

395  ff,  428 
in  France,  436 
and  Miss  Martineau,  608  ff 
*Brocklehurst,'  346 

*  Helen  Burns,'  73,  632 

*  Rochester,'  455,  474 
*The  Professor,'  194,  320-21 

seeking  a  publisher,  332, 
334-36,  352,  515-16  n 
*Shirley,'^~^,   103,  158 
395-96^632 
its  composition,  i24:-2l,  592 
the  curates  of,  424,  461 
authorship  of,  433,  447-48 
Charlotte  on,  467,  592 
reprint  of,  579-80,  588,  597 
Rev.  A.  B.  Nicholls  on,  447 
general  reception  of,  431  ff, 
436  ff,  439,  489 

*  Caroline  Helstone,'  102  n, 

103 

*Villette,'  677,  589,  592 

its  inception,  514-15,  561, 

567  w,  592 
in  manuscript,  596  n,  597 
publication,  605 
its  reception,  607  ff,  617  ff 
Mr.  George  Smith  and,  592, 

604-605,  619-20  n 
*M.    Paul  Emanuel,'  532, 

619-20,  632 
confession  incident  in,  271- 

72 

*LucySnowe,*  595,  596,632 
Charlotte  Bronte  on,  699- 
600 

and  Miss  Martineau,  620  n 
*  Bronte  (Charlotte)  and  her  Circle,' 
102  w,  263  n,  271  w,  338  n,  476  w, 
509  n 


660 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


Bronte  Museum,  315  n 

Bronte,  Elizabeth,  59,  11  ff,  106,  170 

her  birth,  10  w,  46 

her  baptism,  46  ff 

at  Cowan  Bridge  school,  64,  71, 
80 

her  death,  78 
mural  tablet  to,  8,  10  7i 
Bronte,  Emily  Jane 

birth,  8  n,  10  w,  38  w,  46 
baptism,  47  7i 

at  Haworth,  175,  187,  192,  318 
her  childhood,  51,  59,  86  ff 
schooldays  at  Cowan  Bridge,  65, 

w,  72,  77,  80,  81 
schooldays  at  Roe  Head,  140-41 
as  governess  at  Halifax,  143, 

151,  171,  214/1 
in  London,  225 
at  Brussels,  143,  218,  223-53 
and  the  Hegers,  232  ff 
Charlotte's  letters  to,  178,  180, 

263-64,  271-72,  276 
her  friendship  for  Anne,  166 
and  Branwell,  287,  306 
her  religious  views,  146 
her  appearance,  51, 129,  232,  248 
her  portrait,  138-39 
her  likeness  to  G.  H.  Lewes,  469 
and  Miss  Nussey,  167,  339 
her  dog,  see  Keeper 
learns  drawing,  125 
her  illness  and  death,  386  ff,  391- 

94,  401  w,  437  n 
mural  tablet  to,  8  ff 
her  character,  138, 152,  166,  225, 

248,  632 
and  Shirley,  632 
Charlotte  Bronte  on,  356-57, 

396  n 

Sydney  Dobell  on,  499,  506 
her  love  of  the  moors,  142,  143, 

283,  466 
her  study  of  French,  225,  232  ff, 

235,  241,  243 
her  study  of  German,  143,  243 
and  Miss  Branwell,  191,  253  n 
her  diary,  212-13  n 
her  works : — 

juvenile  writings,  92  n 

Poems,  298  ff,  307, 487  ff 


Bronte,  Emily  Jane — cord, 
her  works : — 

'Wuthering  Heights,'  151 
298,  303  w,  320,  336,  344, 
499 

authorship  of,  370  ff,  374  n 
publication  of,  332, 354, 355, 
491 

reprint  of,  492,  500,  506 
its  light  on  Emily,  367 
Charlotte  on,  356-57 
sent  to  Mrs.  Gaskell,  480  n 
*  Joseph,'  12 
'  Heathcliffe,'  356 
Bronte,  Hugh  (Rev.  P.  Bronte's  fa- 
ther, biographical  note  on,  36  n 
Bronte,  Hugh  (Rev.  P.  Bronte's  broth- 
er), biographical  note  on,  36  n 
Bronte,  Maria,  47-48,  50,  57,  59  ff, 
77,  106,  170,  632 
her  birth,  10  w,  46 
her  baptism,  46  n 
at  Cowan  Bridge  School,  64, 71, 80 
her  death,  73  ff 
mural  tablet  to,  8,  9  w 
Bronte,  Rev.  Patrick 

his  birth  and  descent,  36  n,  37  n 

his  early  Ufe,  37 

at  Cambridge,  37,  219,  378 

at  Weatherfield,  38  n 

at  Heartshead,  39,  45 

at  Thornton,  38  w,  46,  47 

goes  to  Haworth,  35,  39  /i,  47 

his  courtship,  42-45 

his  marriage,  39,  45 

his  wife,  see  Bronte,  Mrs.  Patrick 

his  curates,  182,  196,313  n 

his  home,  47 

his  study,  5,  49 

his  library,  127, 131 

his  children  at  home,  68-59,  90, 

138,  174-176 
takes  his  children  to  school,  72, 
80 

and  Miss  Branwell,  169-170 
and  his  son,    297,  331,  381, 

383-85 
and  Charlotte,  631 
and  Jane  Eyre,  337,  356-48 
Charlotte's    letter   to,   509  w, 

533-34  7i,  536-37  n 


INDEX 


661 


Bronte,  Rev.  Patrick — cont. 

and  Charlotte's  portrait,  474-75 
and  Charlotte's  marriage,  604, 
637,  646.    See  also  Nicholls, 
Rev.  A.  B. 
and  Emily,  389 

and  the  Rev.  A.  B.  Nicholls,  53 
w,  182  n,  603-604,  641  ff,  650 
and  Miss  Nussey,  339,  568,  591 
and  Miss  Wooler,  170 
and  M.  Heger,  254-56 
his  gun,  53 

takes  Charlotte  and  Emily  to 

Brussels,  225 
and  *  Yillette,'  607  n 
his  illnesses,  56,  137,  400,  426, 

452,  464,  588,  645 
his  eyesight,  276-277,  316,  321, 

325,  626-27  n 
and  Mrs.  Gaskell,  498,  626 
and  Mr.  George  Smith,  607  w, 

626  n,  654-55  n 
his  character,  53-56 
his  exclusiveness,  47-50 
Mrs.  Gaskell's  view  of,  52  w, 

53  n 
his  will,  38  n 
mural  tablet  to,  10  n 
Bronte,  Mrs.  Patrick,  41 
her  birth,  10  n 
her  descent,  41  n 
her  love  letters,  42-44,  451 
her  books,  127 
her  marriage,  39,  45 
her  death,  56,  61 
her  life  at  Haworth,  48,  51 
her  portrait,  41  n 
her  monument,  7,  9  n 
Bronte,  Patrick  Branwell 
birth,  8  n,  10  n,  46 
baptism,  47  n 

childhood,  58-59,  83,  86-88 
and  the  Royal  Academy  of  Arts, 

139,  171,  188,  214  n 
at  Luddenden  Foot,  202  213 
in  Miss  BranwelPs  will,  253 
and  Anne,  287,  369 
and  Miss  Branwell,  128  n,  129, 

191 

and  Charlotte,    125  n,  286-88, 
290 


Bronte,  Patrick  Branwell — cont. 
Charlotte's  letters  to,  106,  107 
and  Emily,  287,  306 
and  his  father,  297 
and   his  sisters'   novels,  335, 
385  n 

and  the  Robinsons,  295, 484-85  n 
his  drawings  and  paintings,  138, 
633 

his  letter  to  Wordsworth,  153- 
55 

his  writings,  92  n,  154-56,  190 
his  character,  137,  188-90 
his  appearance,  129,  190 
his  idleness  and  bad  habits,  276, 
286,  287,  290,  294,  295,  297, 
304,  305,  306,  307,  311,  327, 
331,  358-59,  380,  282  ft 
his  death,  382-86 
mural  tablet  to,  8,  9  w 
his  knowledge  of  London,  140, 
188 

as  railway  clerk,  202,  213,  214 

n,  221 
as  tutor,  202  w,  214  n 
Brooke,  Mrs.,  201,  203  ff 
Brookrovd,  102  n,  307,  339,  473  ff, 

572  644 
Brougham,  Lord,  biographical  note 

on,  136  n 
BroLighton-in-Furness,  202  n 
Brown,  John,  447  n 
Brown,  Martha,  52       56      214  n, 

307,  420,  429,  447,  464,  470-71, 

606-607 
Brown,  Samuel,  489 
Browne,  Dr.,  the  phrenologist,  540  ff 
Brussels,  108  w,  215,  218-22,  223  ff, 

259  ff 

Bryce,  Rev.  David,  183,  193  w 
Bulwer,  Sir  Edward  Lytton  (after- 
wards  first   Lord    Lytton),  364, 
534  n 

Burlington,  183,  186  n,  201,212,  253, 
291 

'  Burns,  Helen,'  73,  632 
Busfield,  Mrs.,  283-84 
Byron,  Lord,  134,  135,  501 

Caldwell,  Anne,  see  Mrs.  Marsh 
Campbell,  Thomas,  134 


662 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


Carlisle,  Earl  of,  531-32 
'  Caroline  Helstone,'  see  '  Shirley  * 
Carrodus,  J.  F.,  2  w 
Carter,  Anne,  193 
Carter,  Rev.  E.  N.,  97  n 
Cartman,  Rev.  Dr.,  533  n 
Cartwright's  Mill,  111  ff 
Casterton,  62  fiP,  382 
Chambers,  W.  &  R.,  299 

*  Chambers's  Journal,*  306 
Charnock,  Mr.,  26,  28 
Chorley,  H.  F.,  453  n 

'  Christian     Remembrancer,     The ' 
611  n 

*  Christopher  North,*  see  John  Wilson 
Clapham,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  653  n 
Cleathorpe,  181  ff 

Clergy  Daughters'  School,  see  Cowan 

Bridge 
Cobbett,  William,  124 
Cockayne,  Alderman,  14 

*  Colburn's  New  Monthly  Magazine,' 

309 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  153,  190,  290 
Collins,  Mr.,  196  ff 
Commonwealth,  The,  14  ff,  242 

*  Cornhill  Magazine,'  194  w 
Cowan  Bridge,  63  ff,  104,  382 
Cowper,  W.,  145,  147 
Craik,  Mrs.,  619-20 

'Cranford/  see  Mrs.  Gaskell,  her 
works 

*  Critic,  The,'  310 
Cromwell,  Oliver,  15,  242 
Cross  Stone  Vicarage,  42  n 
Crosse,  Rev.  John,  33 
Crowley,  Rev.  Dr.,  379 

Crystal   Palace,  see  Exhibition  of 
1851 

*  Daily  News,'  310,  324  w,  341,  496, 

607  608 
D'Aubigne,  307,  531,  560 
Davenport,  Mrs.,  535,  537  n 
Davy,  Dr.,  39,  41 
Day,  Thomas,  51 

*  Deerbrook,'  see  Harriet  Martineau 
Derby,  442 

Derby,  Lord,  579 

De  Quincev,  Thomas,  314  ti 

De  Renzi,  Rev.  Mr.,  182  w,  604  n 


Dewsbury,  38  n 

Dewsburv  Moor,  151,  166,  164,  170, 

172,  217,  220 
Dickens,  Charles,  342  n,  465,  553 

his  *  Bleak  House,'  578  n 
'  Dictionary  of  National  Biography ' 

quoted,  14  w,  638  n 
Disraeli,  Benjamin  (afterwards  Earl 

of  Beaconsfield),  364,  579 
Dixon,  George,  245  n,  274 
Dixon,  Miss  Mary,  245  w,  260,  273 
Dobell,  Sydney,  488,  499-501,  506- 
507,  529-30,  637 
his  '  Balder,'  638-39 
Donnington,  173  n 
Douro,  Marquis  of,  84,  85 
Driver,  Dr.,  88 

'Dublin  University  Magazine,'  310, 

354 

Earnley  Rectory,  173  n 
Eastlake,  Lady,  395  n  ff 
Easton,  185 

Eckermann's    *  Conversations  with 

Goethe,'  434 
'  Eclectic,  The,'  529 
'Economist,  The,'  343,  396  n 
Edinburgh,  Charlotte  Bronte  in,  471- 

73,  475  w,  488 
'Edinburgh  Review,'  310,  432,  448, 

494 

Ellesmere,  Earl  of,  537  n 

'  Emanuel  Paul,'  see  '  Villette  ' 

Emdale,  36  n 

Emerson,  R.  W.,  459-60 

*Emma,'  see  Charlotte  Bronte's 
works 

Enoch,  F.,  314  n 

'  Esmond,'  see  W.  M.  Thackeray 

'Examiner,  The,'  341,  343-44,  381  n 
607  w,  627  n 

Exhibition  of  1851,  The  Great  {Crys- 
tal Palace),  522,  523  w,  527  w,  531, 
533  n  ff,  548,  560 

Eyre,  Joan,  294  n  ff 

Eyre,  Robert,  294  n 

'Fair  Carew,  The,'  564-66  n 
'  Fanshawe  Ginevra,'  see  Mrs.  Robert- 
son— Maria  Miller 
Fearneley,  Fairfax,  101 


INDEX 


663 


Feunell,  Miss  (Mrs.  Morgan),  43  n, 
46  n 

Fennell,  Rev.  John,  42  ff,  46  n 
Ferrand,  Mrs.  Busfield,  483 
'  Field  Head,'  100 
Fielding,  Henry,  577  w,  623-24 

his  '  Tom  Jones,'  360 

his  '  Jonathan  Wild,'  577-78  n 
Filey,  586-88 

*  Florence  Saekville,'  565-68  7i 
Flossy,  the  dog,  562,  651 
Fonblauque,  A.  W.,  435,  437 
Forbes,  Dr.,  390-91  w,  404,  411,  52271, 

525,  631,  627  n 
For9ade  Eugene,  436-37 
Forster,  John,  520  n,  679 
Fox,  George,  164  n 
Fox  Howe,  Westmoreland,  604,  512 
'Fraser's  Magazine,'  341  351-62 

613 

'  Free  Lance,'  562  n 
Froude,  J.  A.,  447 

Garrs,  Nancy,  53-64  n,  57  n 
Garrs,  Sarah,  67  n 
Gaskell,  Mrs.,  490  ?i,  522  n 

on  Rev.  Carus  Wilson,  66  ff, 
382  n 

and  Sir  Werayss  Reid,  78  w 
on  Bran  well  Bronte,  294 
Charlotte   Bronte   on,  483  n, 

546  n  ff 
meets  Charlotte  Bronte,  480  ff 
visits  Charlotte  Bronte,  496-99, 

426,  630-36 
letters  from  Charlotte  Bronte, 

485-87,  506,  547-60,  604-605, 

616,  626-29,  644 
visited    by   Charlotte  Bronte, 

636-38,  620-22,  640,  643 
on   Charlotte  Bronte,   322  ff, 

606  ff,  631  ff 
on  Emily  Bronte,  632-33 
on  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte,  631,  633 
on  Rev.  A.  B.  Nicholls,  602  ff, 

625,  642,  647  n 
and  Charlotte  Bronte's  letters  to 

Miss  Nussey,  102  w 
and  Miss  Nussey,  102  7i,  122 
on  Mary  Taylor,  108  w 
on  Miss  Wooler,  103 


Gaskell,  Mrs. — cont. 

and  Miss  Martineau,  567  w,  609- 
10  n 

and  Miss  Laetitia  Weelwright, 

246  n 
and  Thackeray,  627  n 
her  works : — 

the    *Life     of  Charlotte 

Bronte,'  246  n,  602 
'  Cranford,'  627 

*  Mary  Barton,'  564  n 

*  Moorland  Cottage,'  480  n 
*Ruth,'  601,  604-605 

Gaskell,  Miss  Julia,  560,  553,  328 
Gaskell,  Miss   Marianne,  550,  553, 
628  ff 

Gaskell,  Miss  Meta,  548,  653,  628  ff 
Gaskell,  Rev.  W.,  12  n,  663-54 
Gawthorpe  Hall,  457 
*Germ,  The,'  300  n 
Glascar,  37  n 

'  Glasgow  Examiner,'  343  n 
Glenelg,  Lord,  536,  537  n 
Goethe,  434 

Goethe,  Lewes'  *Life'  of,  851  n 
Goldsmith,  Oliver,  128  w,  134,  564  w, 
664 

Gomersal,  97  n,  108  n,  119,  120, 176, 

199-200 
Gore,  Mrs.,  477 
Grant,  Rev.  Mr.,  462  w,  646 
Greenwood,  John,  299  w,  474 
Grey,  Earl,  106,  132 
Grimshaw,  Rev.  W.,  6  n,  22  ff,  49 
Guizot,  242 

Gulston,    Miss    Josepha  ('Talbot 
Gwynne*),  581  w 

Halifax,  15,  39,  161,  171,  300 

'  HaHfax  Guardian,'  79  n 

Hallam,  Arthur,  486 

Hardaker,  Elizabeth,  168  n 

Hare,  J.  and  A.,  their  *  Guesses  at 

Truth,'  42 
Harrogate,  184 
Hartshead,  38,  113,  130 
Hathersage,  173  w,  293 
Hausse,  Mile.,  263  n 
Haworth,  3,  136,  337,  365,  680 

church  and  churchyard,  6  ff,  48, 
630 


664  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


Ha  worth — cont. 

mural  tablet  to  the  Brontes,  7-10 
curates,  182,  196,  313  n 
museum,  315  n 

Matthew    Arnold's    verses  on 
*  Ha  worth  Churchyard,*  613  n 
parsonage,  4,  48,  62,  130,  278, 

497  ff,  554,  632 
population  of,  3  n 
villagers,  21,  31  ff 
dissenters,  6  n,  49 
*  Black  Bull,'  26,  29,  137,  191 
Mrs.  Gaskell  and,  630 
Hazlitt,  William,  459,  500 
Heald,  Miss  Mary,  385 
Heald,  Rev.  W.  M,,  164  n 
Heald's  Hall,  113 
Heap,  Mr.,  33 
Heap,  Mrs.,  205  n 
Hebden  Bridge,  202  n 
Heckmondwike,  97  w,  1 13, 1 17  ff,  1 75  n 
Heger,  M.,  223,  230  ff,  252  ff,  259  ff, 

263  ff,  277  ff,  290,  326  n 
Heger,  Mme.,  223,  230  ff,  234,  243, 

245  ff,  252,  259  ff,  273  ff,  277  ff 
Heger's  Pensionnat,  223,  227  ff,  279 
Helps,  Sir  Arthur,  his  *  Friends  in 

Council,'  434 
Hero,  the  hawk,  213-214  n 
Hewitt,  Mrs.,  653  n 
Hey  wood,  '  Life  of  Oliver,'  16,  26  ff, 
100  n 

Higgins,  M.  J.  ('Jacob  Omnium'), 
527  n 

Hodgson,  Rev.  W.,  182  ff 

Homoeopathy,  388-89  n 

'  Hood's  Magazine,'  309 

Hornsea,  637 

Hotel  Clusyenaar,  246  n 

Houghton,  Lord,  see  Monckton  Milnes 

House  of  Commons,  469 

Howitt,  William,  435 

Howley  Hall,  98 

Huddersfield,  148,  201  n 

Hudson,  John,  186 

Hugo,  Victor,  236 

Hume,  David,  134 

Hunsworth,  286  w,  400  n 

Hunt,  Leigh,  454  n 

his  *  Autobiography,'  500 
his  '  Jar  of  Honey,'  545  n 


*  Imitation  of  Christ,'  66  n,  128  7i 
Inchbald,  Mrs.,  564  n 

Ingham,  Mrs.,  175,  193  n 
Ireland,  366 

*  Jacob  Omnium,*  see  M.  J.  Hig- 

gins 

'Jane  Eyre,'  see  Charlotte  Bronte's 

Works 
Jannoy,  Hortense,  263  n 
Jar  of  Honey,"  see  Leigh  Hunt 
Jeffrey's  '  Essay,'  499 
Jenkins,  Rev.  Mr.,  218,  222  w,  223, 

225 

Jenkins,  Mrs.,  218,  222  w,  223,  226, 
245 

Jerrold,  Douglas,  454  n 

*  Jerrold's  Newspaper,'  343  n 
Jerrold's  '  ShilHng  Magazine,'  310 
'  John  Bull,'  88 

Johnson,  Dr.,  107,  131,  135,  350, 
371  w,  564  ri 

Kavanagh,  Julia,  459  n,  470,  490  n, 
580 

Keeper,  the  dog,  213-14  w,  276,  281- 

82,  393,  562,  633 
Keighley,  1,  49,  88,  198,  257,  337, 

371,  392,  630 

*  Kenilworth,'  see  Sir  Walter  Scott 
Key  worth.  Rev.  Thomas,  151  w 

*  King  of  the  Golden  River,  The,'  see 

John  Ruskin 
Kingsley,  Charles,  499  w,  550 
Kirby  Lonsdale,  66 
Kirkstall  Abbey,  42 
Knox,  Dr.  Robert,  500 

'  Ladies'  Magazine,'  127 
Lamb,  Charles,  57,  381  w,  644 
Law  Hill,  151  n 

Lawrence,  Samuel,  his  portrait  of  W. 

M.  Thackeray,  614  ff,  632 
'Leader,  The,'  465,  554  w,  566  n, 

579  w,  598 
Leeds,  181,  202,  258,  371,  414,  628 
'  Leeds  Intelligencer,'  88 
'Leeds  Mercury,'  7  w,  88,  190,  607  n 
Leopold,  King  of  the  Belgians,  223, 

277 

Lewes,  George  Henry,  341  w,  350-55, 


INDEX 


665 


359-64,  432-33,  448-50,  466,  469, 
494-95,  566  n 

his  'Ranthorpe,'  351   w,  355, 
363 

his 'Rose,  Blanche,  and  Violet,' 
351  363 
Leyland,  Francis   A.,   his  'Biconte 

Family,'  125  ?i,  202  n 
Lille,  221  ff 

'Literary  Gazette,  The,'   310,  840, 

342,  542,  607  n 
Liverpool,  182  ff 
Liversedge,  111,  113 
Lockhart,  J.  G.,  135 
London  Bridge  Wharf,  258 
London,   see   Charlotte  Bronte  in 
London 

the  Chapter  Coffee  House,  225, 

258,  371,  375  71,  378 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  130,  225, 

378 

Trafalgar  Square,  548 
Louis-Philippe,  King,  365 
'  Lowood  School,'  65 
'  Lucy  Snowe,'  see  Charlotte  Bronte 

— *  Villette ' 
Luddenden  Foot,  22,  202,  213 
Luddite  Riots,  110  ff 
Lytton,  Lord,  see  Sir  E.  L.  Bulwer 

Macaulay,  Lord,  his  'Essays,'  600, 
579  n 

his  '  History  of  England,'  499 
McClory,  Alice,  36  n 
McCrowdie,  Miss,  566  n 
Macready,  W.,  520  n 
Manchester,  13  n,  202,  246  n,  317  ff, 

325,  538,  620,  625,  644 
Manners,  Lord  John,  483 
Marie,  Mile.,  234 
Marsh,  Mrs.,  342  n,  634 
Martineau,  Harriet,  324,  440-41,447, 
483,  493,  498,  506,  508-18, 
546-48,  550-51,  555  n,  558, 
559  n,  565  n,  578  w,  598,  599 
n,  607  n,  620  n 
her  'Deerbrook,'  440,  571  n 
Martineau,  Rev.  James,  551 
*  Mary  Barton,'  see  Mrs.  Gaskell,  her 

works 
Marzials,  Mme.,  222  n 


Maurice,  Rev.  F.  D.,  560 

Melrose,  471,  488 

Melville,  Rev.,  560 

Merrell,  Michael,  6  n 

'  Methodist  Magazine,'  127 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  552-53 

Miller,  Maria,  see  Mrs.  Robertson 

Milnes,  Monckton,  53 1-3 '2,  535 

Milton,  John,  134 

'  Mirabeau,'  370  n 

Mirfield,  175  n 

'Mirror,  The,'  125  n,  131 

'  Modern  Painters,'  see  John  Ruskin 

Moore,  Thomas,  his  '  Lives '  of  Byron 

and  Sheridan,  135 
'Moorland  Cottage,  The,'  see  Mrs. 

Gaskell,  her  works 
Morgan,  Rev.  William,  43  n,  46  n 
'  Morning  Chronicle,'  454  n 
Morrison,  Mr.  Alfred,  301  n 
Miihl,  Mile.,  263  n 
Muiock,  Miss  Dinah  M.,  see  Mrs.  Craik 

Napoleon,  265-69 
National  Gallery,  373,  377  n 
Newby,  Thomas  Cautley,  354,  356  n, 
363  n,  369  n,  374  n,  489  n,  502  w, 
504-505  n,  571  71 
Newman,  F.  W.,  447,  481 
Newman,  Father  (afterwards  Cardi- 
nal), 481 
Newton,  Rev.  John,  22 
Nicholls,  Rev.  Arthur  Bell,  313,  413, 
462  w,  471,  534  n,  626 

and  Mrs.  Gaskell,  567-68  n,  602 

ff,  625,  642,  647  n 
and  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte,  53 
182  «,  602-604,  641  ff,  650 
his  engagement  with  Charlotte 

Bronte,  602-604,  637,  641 
marriage  with  Charlotte  Bronte, 
645  ff 

his  study  at  Haworth  Parsonage, 

48  w,  644 
in  Ireland,  604  w,  647 
and  '  Shirley,'  447 
on    Emily    Bronte's  portrait, 

139  n 

and  'The  Professor,'  320  n 
and  '  Jane  Eyre,'  447 
Nicholls,  Rev.  — ,  22 


666 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTfi 


NicoU,  Dr.  Robertson,  617  w 
'  Nineteenth  Century/  53 
Noel,  Baptiste,  221-22 
*  Nonconformist,  The,'  607  n 
'  North  American  Review,'  388  n 
Nussey,    Miss    Ellen,  biographical 
note,  101-102  n 
at  school,  101  If 

at  Haworth,  129,  147,  222  n,  332, 
336,  519,  546,  563,  583,  584 
ff,  606 

visited  by  Charlotte  Bronte,  126, 
135,  144,  279,  293,  806,  339, 
473-74,  510,  571,  598 
help  to  Mrs.  Gaskell,  102  7i,  122 
her  recollections  of  Anne  Bronte, 
414  ff 

her  recollections  of  Emilv  Bronte, 
129 

letter  from  Anne  Bronte,  407- 
408 

her  description  of  Miss  Branw(!H, 
61  n 

her  description  of  *  Tabby,'  Bl  n 

visits  London,  130-33 

and  Charlotte  Bronte's  Wedding, 
645  If 

her  death,  102  n 

letters  from  Charlotte  Bronte, 
122-23,  126,  131-35,  146- 
51,  156-57,  164-68,  172-76, 
179-80,  181-87,  193,  199- 
205,  208-12,  213-16,  219- 
22,  234^86,  243-44,  250-51, 
259-60,  262-63,  273-75,  278- 
79,  291-93,  295-96,  306-307, 
312-13,  317-19,  325-29,  330- 
33,  539,  366-68,  382-86,  389- 
93,  399-404,  406-407,  410- 
12,  420-22,  426-27,  430,  436- 
38,  441  w,  447  -48,  450-51, 
456  n,  468-70,  474,  482-84, 
492-94,  508-509,  521,  525-29, 
530-31,  533-36,  563,  579,  584- 
85,  586-88,  590-91,  645,  652 
Nussey,  George,  148,  291 
Nussey,  Rev.  Henry,  135,  173  ?i,  294  n 
Nussey,  Mercy,  653  n 

OakXvell  Hall,  99 

Oberlin,  J.  F./Life'  of,  150 


O'Conn^l),  D.,  132 
Oliphaiit,  Mrs.,  154  n 
'  Oliver  Weld,'  568  ff,  578 
Outhwaite,  Miss,  128  m,  412  n 

Palladium,  488,  499,  506 

Palm^t^ton,  Lord,  38 

'  Paris  Sketch  Book,  The,'  see  W.  M. 

Thackeray 
Park'erj  John  W.,  351 
Parker,  Thomas,  33  n 
Patchett,  Miss,  151  n,  214  n 
Peel,  Sir  Robert,  90,  105,  132,  136 
'  Pendennis,'  see  W.  M.  Thackeray 
Penn,  William,  579  n 
Peinzance,  39,  61 
/'  People's  Journal,'  343 
Phillips,  George  Searle,  125  w 
Pickering,  C,  500 

*  Poems  by  Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton 

Bell,'  298,  300  ff,  306,  319,  354, 

487 
Pope,  A.,  134 
Postlethwaite,  Mr.,  202  n 

*  Prelude,  The,'  see  W.  Wordsworth 
'Professor,  The,'  see  Charlotte  Bronte, 

her  works 

*  Punch,'  329  w,  489 

*  Puseyites,  a  Paper  Lantern  for,'  502  n, 

504  n 

*  Quarterly  Review,  The,'  395-99 
Quillinan,  Edward,  154 

Rachel,  Mile.,  535,  560 
Ramsbottom,  Dr.,  81 
'  Ranthorpe,'  see  G.  H.  Lewes 
Rawdon,  206  n,  213  n 
Rawfolds,  111  ff 

'Rebecca  and  Rowena,'  see  W.  M. 

Thackeray 
Redhead,  Rev.  Mr.,  28-31,  118 
*Reed,  Mrs,'  6 In 
Reform  Bill,  105 

Reid,  Sir  Wemyss,  53  w,  64      78  n, 
102  n 

'  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,'  436 
Richmond,  Legh,  150 
Richmond,  George,   his  portrait  of 
Charlotte  Bronte,  58,  474,497,  632 
Riddell,  Mrs.,  354  n 


INDEX 


667 


Rigby,  Miss,  see  Lady  Eastlake 
Ringrose,  Miss,  333  7i 
Ripon,  Bishop  of,  616 
Ritchie,  Mrs.  Richmond,  643  n 
'Rivista  Britannica,'  554  n 
Roberson,  Hammond,  113-17,  165  n 
Robinson,  Rev.  Edmond,  213,  295,  389 
Robinson,  the  Misses,  389 
Robinson,  William,  of  Leeds,  125  n 
Rochdale,  21 
^Rochester,'  455,  474 
Roe  Head,  98,  109,  117,  125,  140, 

149,  151 
Rogers,  Samuel,  585,  537  n 
RoUin,  135 

'  Rose,  Blanche,  and  Violet/  see  G.  H. 
Lewes 

'Rose  Douglas,'  see  Mrs.  Whitehead 

Rousseau,  J.  J.,  51 

Rowe,  Mrs.  Elizabeth,  128 

Rue  d'Isabelle  ('  Rue  Fossette '),  225, 

227,  229,  246,  259,  273 
Rue  Royale,  227 

Ruskin,  John,  490,  518,  520  w,  526  ff, 
552,  627 
his  'King  of  the  Golden  River/ 
491 

his  '  Modern  Painters,'  481 
his  '  Seven  Lamps  of  Architect- 
ure,' 481 
his '  Stones  of  Venice,'  518,  523  n, 
526  n,  553 
Russell,  Lord  John,  579 
'Ruth,'  see  Mrs.  Gaskell,  her  works 
Rydings,  The,  102  n,  126 

St.  Clair,  Lady  Harriet,  619,  620  n 
St.  Gudule,  226,  229 
St.  James'  Palace,  132 
St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  37 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  131,  225,  378 
Sand,  George,  361,  362,  494,  495 
Scarborough,  213,  411  ff,  586 
'Scatcherd,'  Miss,  73 
'School  for  Fathers,  The,'  581 
Scoresby,  Dr.,  28 
Scott,  Alexander  J.,  460 
Scott,  Rev.  James,  119  w 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  127, 134,  228  w,  360, 
490 

his  'Kenilworth,'  128 


Shakespeare,  134 

Sheridan,  R.  B.,  107 

Shuttleworth,  Lady,  455-56,  463-64, 

480-81,  637  «,  612 
Shuttleworth,  Sir  James  Kay,  455,  463 

-64,  468  M,  480-81,  509  "n,  513  n, 

535,  537  w,  612,  650-51 
'Shirley,'  see  Charlotte  Bronte,  her 

works 

Sidgwick,  John,  of  Stonegappe,  177- 
79 

Sidgwick,  Mrs,  193  w,  262 

Simeon,  Charles,  368 

Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  302  7i,  321  w,  335, 

341,  370-71,  375,  480,  521 
Charlotte  Bronte's  letters  to,  335- 

38,  342^5,  362-63  n 
Smith,  Mr.  Alick,  552  w,  590  n,  600  n 
Smith,  Mr.  George,  339  ff 

and  Anne  Bronte,  372,  386  n, 

493 

and  Emily  Bronte,  386  w,  493 
and  'Jane  Eyre,'  339-40,  388  n 
and  '  Shirley,'  397  n,  579-80 
and  'Vilette,'  592-95,  597,  601, 

605,  608  n 
and  Miss  Martineau,  567  n  ff 
sends  books  to  Charlotte  Bronte, 

370  n,  381  w,  446-47,  454  w, 

459,  478  n,  627  n 
meets  Charlotte  Bronte,  372  ff 
and  Charlotte  Bronte's  visits  to 

London,  373  ff,  435     438  ff, 

469,  485 
and  Charlotte  Bronte's  visit  to  a 

phrenologist,  540  ff 
and  Thackeray,  643  7i 
and  '  The  Professor,'  335  ff,  515- 

16  n 

Charlotte  Bronte's  opinion  of, 

377  w 

and  Charlotte  Bronte's  marriage, 
643-44  n 

CharlotteBronte's  letters  to,303n, 
370  7^,  381  w,  386  w,  390-91  n, 
398  n,  430-31,  434-37,  443- 
44  n,  454-55  w,  457-62,  463- 
64  n,  473  n,  475  w,  489-90  n, 
501-503  n,  504-506  n,  516- 
16  n,  519-20  71,  622-23  n,  524- 
27  n,  539-40  w,  642-43  w,  646- 


668 


LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 


41  71,550-52  71,  554-56  n,  558 
-69  w,  565-67  w,  586  w,  589- 
90  71,  592-95,  599-600,  607- 
608  n,  614-15,  619-20  7i,  626 
-28  71,  643-44  7z 
Smith,  Mrs.  (Mr.  George  Smith's  moth- 
er), 373,  877  71,  439  7i,  440, 

442,  465,  567  n,  590  7i,  598, 
604-605,  612 

Charlotte    Bronte's  letters  to, 

443,  453-54  n,  473-74  7i,  523- 
24  7fc,  527  71,  538-39,  572-73  n, 
598-601  n 

Smith,  John  Stores,  562  n 

Smith,  Rev.  Peter  Augustus  182  7i, 

462  71,  604  71 
Smith,  Sydney,  500 
Sophie,  Mile.,  234,  263  n 
Southey,  Cuthbert,  159,  161,  449  7i 
Southey,  Robert,  127,  184,  158,  159  ff, 
195-6,  290,  399,  459 
his  '  Commonplace  Book,'  66 
Southowram,  161  n 
Sowden,  Rev.  George,  646  ti 
Sowden,  Rev.  Sutcliffe,  646 
Sowerby  Bridge,  202  7i 

*  Spectator,  The,'  341,  343,  344,  353, 

566  71 

*  Standard,  The,'  7  7i 
Stead,  J.  J.,  118  7i 
Sterne,  Lawrence,  540 

*  Stones  of  Venice,  The,'  see  John 

Raskin 
Stonegappe,  177  7i 
Storey,  Rev.  T.  W.,  5  ti 
Stowe,  Mrs.  Beecher,  628,  634 

her  *  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,'  591, 
593-94,  634 
Stuart,  Dr.  J.  A.  Erskine,  164  7i 

*  Summerson,  Miss  Esther,'  578  n 
'  Sun,  The,'  353 

Swift,  Dean,  623 

'  Tabby,'  see  Tabitha  Aykroyd 
'Tait's  Edinburgh  Magazine,'  310 
Taibet,  473  7i 
Taylor,  Ellen,  403,  576 
Taylor,  Harry,  890 

Taylor,  Sir  Henry,  his  *  Philip  Van 

Artevelde,'  499-500 
Taylor,  James,  340,  397  ti,  435  n, 


476  71,  490  Ti,  501  Ti,  517  ti, 

521  T?,  570  71 
at  Haworth,  398  ti,  524  ti 
Charlotte  Bronte  on,  521  t?,  523 
Charlotte  Bronte's    letters  to, 

465-66,  487-89,  512-14,  560- 

61 

Taylor,  Joseph,  318-19,  333  ti,  390 

Taylor,  Mrs.  Joseph,  578 

Taylor,  Joshua,  158  ti,  225 

Taylor  Martha,  108  Ti,  159,  171-72, 
214,  245,  250-51,  272,  470 

Taylor,  Mary,  107 
at  School,  102  ff 
at  Brussels,  215,  225,  248 
in  New  Zealand,  108  7i,  159,  291, 

403,  533  71,  576 
illness  of,  193  Ti 

description  of  Charlotte  Bronte, 
102-103,  106-107, 124-25, 144 
-45,  444-45 
and  Charlotte  Bronte,  141,  146, 
171,  199,  222,  245,  248-50, 
273-75,  286-88,  370,  374-77 
and  Mrs.  Gaskell's  biography, 

374  71,  655-56 
her  death,  108  ti 
Teale,  Mr.,  391,  410 
'  Temple,  Miss,'  73-74,  76 
'  Tenant,  of  Wildfell  Hall,'  see  Anne 

Bronte,  her  works 
Tennyson,  Alfred,  501 

his  *  In  Memoriam,'  486 
Thackeray,  W.  M.,  342  ti,  364,  437- 
40,  444,  453-54,  490  7i,  514, 
520  TI,  525-27  7i,  554-55  ti, 
564-65  T2,  574-76,  597,  614, 
627  71,  632,  643  ti 
and  'Jane  Eyre,'  341,  349,  439 
meets    Charlotte  Bronte,  469, 

473  Ti,  580 
sends  '  Vanity  Fair '  to  Charlotte 

Bronte,  349 
his  mother,  530 

his  lectures,  530-34,  540,  546  7i, 

553,  560,  622-23 
his  'Esmond,'  349  7i,  574-76, 

578-79  Ti,  590  Ti,  595,  597-98, 

601 

his  *  Kickleburys  on  the  Rhine,' 
504  Ti 


INDEX 


669 


Thackeray,  W;.  M. — cont. 

his  '  Paris  Sketch  Book,'  576  w, 

578  71 
his  'Pendennis,'  458 
his  '  Vanity  Fair,'  349  n,  381  n, 

395 

his  '  Rebecca  and  Rowena,'  490  n 
Tho  mson,  James,  134 
'Thornfield,'  102  n,  324 
Thornton,  38  n,  46 
Thornton  Old  Bell  Church,  46 
Thorp  Green,  214  n 
Tiger,  the  dog,  276 
Tighe,  Rev.  Mr.,  37 

*  Times,  The,'  310,  439,  461,  565  n, 

591,  599  n,  601  n 
Titmarsh,  M.  A.,  see  W.  M.  Thacke- 
ray 

Trench,  Archbishop,  323 
Turner,  J.  Horsfall,  102  n 

*  Two  Families,  The,'  see  Mrs.  White- 

head 

*  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,'  see  Mrs.  Beecher 

Stowe 

Upperwood  House,  Rawdon,  206  w, 
213  n 

*  Vanity  Fair,'  see  W.  M.  Thackeray 
Victoria,  Queen,  277,  488,  534  n 
*Villette,'  see  Charlotte  Bronte,  her 

works 

Voltaire's  '  Henriade,'  231  w 

Wade,  Rev.  John,  5  w,  6 
Walton,  Miss  Agnes,  198  w,  200 
202  n 

Watts's  *  Improvement  of  the  Mind,' 
151  n 

Weatherfield,  Essex,  38  n 
Weightman,  Rev.  William,   182  % 

196-98,  199-200  n,  202  w,  203, 

251  n 

Wellington,  Salop,  38  n 
Wellington,  New  Zealand,  108    576  n 
Wellington,  Duke  of,  85,  87,  89-91, 

105,  132,  268  fe,  469,  476,  510  n, 

511,  590,  614 
Wenlock,  Lady,  587 
Wesley,  John,  23,  127 
Westminster  Abbey,  131 


Westminster,  Marquis  of,  535-37 
*  Westminster  Review,'  341  w,  552 
Wheelwright,  Dr.,  246  w,  273,  652 
Wheelwright,  Laetitia,  230      232  n, 
246-47      436  ff,  442,  471,  481  ff, 
639,  652  ff 
White,  Gilbert,  135 
White,  Henry  Kirke,  37  n 
Whitefield,  Rev.  George,  23 
Whitehead,  Mrs. : — 

her  Rose  Douglas,'  519  n,  580 
and  '  The  Two  Families,'  580 
Whites  of  Rawdon,  206  n  ff,  213- 

14  n,  217,  261,  283 
Wilberforce,  'Memoir'  of,  150 
'  Will  0'  the  Wisp,'  see  Puseyites 
Williams,  W.  S.,  476  w,  490  n,  501  w, 
515-16  n,  525-26  ?i,  578  7i  ff, 
594,  620  n 
discovery  of  Charlotte  Bronte, 
340  ff 

sends  books  to  Charlotte  Bronte, 

499-500,  580-81 
and  'The  Professor,'  331  n 
Charlotte  Bronte's  letters  to, 
341-42  w,  343,  349  w,  353-55, 
363-64,  384-85  w,  388-89  n, 
393  395-97  401-402  w, 
416  n,  428-29,  437  n,  443-45, 
456-57  w,  472-73,  480  n,  499- 
501,  545-46,  555-57,  564- 
66  w,  579-82,  588-89,  595-97, 
618-19 

Wilson,  Rev.  Cams,  66  ff,  81     382  n 
Wilson,  John  ('Christopher  North'), 
88 

Windermere,  481,  484 
Wise,  Thomas  J.,  102  n 
Wiseman,  Cardinal,  501  w,  524  w, 
535  ff 

Wordsworth,  William,  124,  134,  153, 
154,  160,  190,  301 
his  'Prelude,'  487,  499 
Wooler,  Catherine,  93,  234 
Wooler,  Eliza,  166      205  n 
Wooler,  Mrs.,  166  n 
Wooler,  Margaret,  97,  404,  451 

her  school,  101,  103,  110,  120, 

140,  164,  217,  219-20 
Charlotte   Bronte's    letters  to, 
303-304,  365-66,  381-83,  512- 


670  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONT 


15,  536-38,  591-92,  613-14, 

636-37,  641-42,  648 
Charlotte  Bronte   and,  128  yi, 

141  ff,  171-77,  201,  331,  646 
and  Anne  Bronte,  170  ff 
and  Charlotte  Bronte's  wedding, 

645-46 
visit  to  Haworth,  559 


Wright's  *  Bronte's 
n  ff 

'  Wuthering  Heights, 
Bronte,  her  works 

York,  214  w,  414-15 
Yorkshiremen,  Character  of, 
'  Young  Men's  Magazine,'  36 


THE  END 


ckeray,  W 
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